Who that saw his instinctive action and heard his broken utterance when she was dead, and he stood trying with insane perseverance to restore her, fondling her with his paralyzed hands, can ever forget? With insistent eagerness he asked,—
“Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life,
And thou no breath at all?”
With complaining resignation he said,—
“Thou’lt come no more,
Never, never, never, never, never!—”
With wild surprise he exclaimed, while his lips parted and a weird and shrivelling smile stole through his wearied face,—
“Do you see this?—Look on her,—look,—her lips,—
Look there, look there!”
He stood erect and still, gazing into vacancy. Not a rustle, not a breath, could be heard in the house. Slowly the head nodded, the muscles of the face relaxed, the hands opened, the eyes closed, one long hollow gasp through the nostrils, then on the worn-out king of grief and pain fell the last sleep, and his form sank upon the stage, while the parting salvos of the storm rolled afar.