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Her words were more and more inarticulate, evaporating into each other,
as if they were being blown away. She had become almost inaudible.
"
Gwynplaine," she resumed, "you will think of me, won't you? I shall
crave it when I am dead."
And she added,--
"
Oh, keep me with you!"
Then, after a pause, she said,--
"Come to me as soon as you can. I shall be very unhappy without you,
even in heaven. Do not leave me long alone, my sweet Gwynplaine! My
paradise was here; above there is only heaven! Oh! I cannot breathe! My
beloved! My beloved! My beloved!"
"
Mercy!" cried Gwynplaine.
Farewell!" murmured Dea.
"
And he pressed his mouth to her beautiful icy hands. For a moment it
seemed as if she had ceased to breathe. Then she raised herself on her
elbows, and an intense splendour flashed across her eyes, and through an
ineffable smile her voice rang out clearly.
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