But Violet's eyes were wide open now, and full of a wonderful joy. They travelled straight up over the housetops and the golden crown of the hill towards the bright blue sky, as if following some vision of delight.
"Fritz!"—it was now a cry of triumph—"it is all quite true. See! look up yonder, high, high up. Ah, seest thou not now Violet has wings?"
All the people with a common consent looked upward as she spoke; but there was nothing there to see but God's blue heaven and a speck of golden cloud sailing slowly past across the mountain top.
When they turned back again they knew then that the child was dead; for the eyes, full still of that strange purple wonder, were immovably fixed upon the far off heavens, and the awe and majesty of death were creeping into them as the light of life died out.
"Free at last," said the policeman, lifting up his face with a strange grim smile towards the distant sky. "She has escaped like a bird from its cage, and is gone up yonder."
There was nothing more to wait for now. The policeman turned towards the door of Violet's house and carried her away from their eyes. The procession, re-forming, moved mournfully onwards. Some women in the street snatched up bunches of the violets which lay scattered about over the road, and thrust them into their bosoms.
But Madam Adler, Fritz, and little Ella in her silver shoes and shining wings, remained behind, and they and many others followed the old policeman and his burden up the stairs; and Madam Adler, pushing her way on in front, opened the door of the kitchen to allow him to pass in. But there on the threshold they were met by Kate, behind whom stood the form of Evelina rigid with horror and dismay.
"Is it all over?" cried the old woman distractedly—"is the child dead?—tell me now at once, is our Violet dead?"
"Yes, quite dead."