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These words were not spoken, but sobbed out. They rose from his
breast--now in a lament which might have attracted the dove, now in a
roar which might have made lions recoil.
Dea answered him in a voice growing weaker and weaker, and pausing at
nearly every word.
"Alas! it is of no use, my beloved. I see that you are doing all you
can. An hour ago I wanted to die; now I do not. Gwynplaine--my adored
Gwynplaine--how happy we have been! God placed you in my life, and He
takes me out of yours. You see, I am going. You will remember the Green
Box, won't you, and poor blind little Dea? You will remember my song? Do
not forget the sound of my voice, and the way in which I said, 'I love
you!' I will come back and tell it to you again, in the night while you
are asleep. Yes, we found each other again; but it was too much joy. It
was to end at once. It is decreed that I am to go first. I love my
father, Ursus, and my brother, Homo, very dearly. You are all so good.
There is no air here. Open the window. My Gwynplaine, I did not tell
you, but I was jealous of a woman who came one day. You do not even know
of whom I speak. Is it not so? Cover my arms; I am rather cold. And Fibi
and Vinos, where are they? One comes to love everybody. One feels a
friendship for all those who have been mixed up in one's happiness. We
have a kindly feeling towards them for having been present in our joys.
Why has it all passed away? I have not clearly understood what has
happened during the last two days. Now I am dying. Leave me in my dress.
When I put it on I foresaw that it would be my shroud. I wish to keep it
on. Gwynplaine's kisses are upon it. Oh, what would I not have given to
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