The ghostly viaticum being over, the priest and his assistants left the house. But the pale, grinning shadow of death continued to stand by the perfumed couch.
Roma had not been present at the offices, and presently the English Sister came to say that the Countess wished to see her.
"It's perfectly miraculous," said the Sister. "She's like another woman."
"Has she had her opiate lately?" said Roma, and the Sister answered that she had.
Roma found her aunt in a kind of mystical transport. A great light of joy, almost of pride, was shining in her face.
"All my pains are gone," she said. "All my sorrows and trials too. I have laid them all on Christ, and now I am going to mount up with Him to God."
Clearly she had no sense of her guilt towards Roma. She began to take a high tone with her, the tone of a saint towards a sinner.
"You must conquer your worldly passions, Roma. You have been a sinner, but you must not die a bad death. For instance, you are selfish. I am sorry to say it, but you know you are. You must confess and dedicate your life to fighting the sin in your sinful heart, and commend your soul to His mercy who has washed me from all stain."
But the Countess's ethereal transports did not wholly eclipse her worldly vanities when she proceeded to preparations for her funeral.
"Let there be a Requiem Mass, Roma. Everybody has it. It costs a little, certainly, but we can't think of money in a case like this. And send for the Raveggi Company to do the funeral pomps, and see they don't put me on a tressel. I am a noble and have a right to be laid on the church floor. See they bury me on high ground. The little Pincio is where the best people are buried now, above the tomb of Duke Massimo."