The Chapel-master, who was generally indifferent to events in the Cathedral, went nevertheless to inquire of His Eminence's condition. He had a plan which he quickly explained to the family during dinner. The funeral of a cardinal deserved the execution of a celebrated mass, with a full orchestra recruited in Madrid. He had already cast his eyes on the famous Requiem of Mozart; that was the only reason for which he was interested in the prelate's fate.
Gabriel, looking at his companion, felt the gentle selfishness that a living man feels when a great man dies.
"So the great fall, Sagrario, and we, the sickly and wretched, have still some life before us."
At the hour of locking up the church he went down to begin his watch.
The bell-ringer was waiting for him with the keys.
"How about the Cardinal?" inquired Gabriel.
"He will certainly die to-day, if he is not already dead."
And afterwards he added:
"You will have a great illumination to-night, Gabriel. The Virgin is on the high altar till to-morrow morning, surrounded by wax tapers."
He was silent for a moment, as if undecided about Something.
"Possibly," he added, "I may come down and keep you company a little.
You must be dull alone; expect me."