"O, that I might save you, countess, even by mine own life!"
"You would do so, I know you would; it is so like your nature," she said, turning her still beautiful eyes upon him.
"I would, indeed I would," answered General Bezan.
A sweet smile of satisfaction stole over her pale features as she once more languidly closed her eyes, and once more that ominous shudder stole through her frame.
"It is very cold, is it not?" she asked, realizing the chill that her paralyzed circulation caused.
"Alas, countess, I fear it is the chill of death you feel!"
"So soon? well, I am prepared," she said, once more kissing the cross.
"Heaven bless and receive your pure and lovely spirit," he said, devoutly, as she once more replaced her hand within his own.
"Farewell, Lorenzo Bezan. Sometimes think kindly of the Countess M-o-r-a-n-z-a!"
She breathed no more. That faithful and beautiful spirit had fled to heaven!