She touched his lower lip, already turned blue; and as she pressed it slightly, a whitish froth issued from the mouth. From between his lashes she brushed away some speck, very carefully, as though fearful of hurting him.
"How beautiful you are, heart of your mamma!"
His lashes were long, very long, and fair. On his temples, on his cheeks was a light bloom, pale as gold.
"Do you not hear me? Rise and walk."
She took the little well-worn cap, limp as a rag. She gazed at it and kissed it, saying:--
"I am going to make myself a charm out of this, and wear it always on my breast."
She lifted the child; a quantity of water escaped from the mouth and trickled down upon the breast.
"O Madonna of the Miracles, perform a miracle!" she prayed, raising her eyes to heaven in a supreme supplication. Then she laid softly down again the little being who had been so dear to her, and took up the worn shirt, the red sash, the cap. She rolled them up together in a little bundle, and said:--
"This shall be my pillow; on these I shall rest my head, always, at night; on these I wish to die."
She placed these humble relics on the sand, beside the head of her child, and rested her temple on them, stretching herself out, as if on a bed.