I listened and saw--but I was in a state of stupefaction.

Dead?
My beautiful, gay, strong Zara DEAD?
Impossible! I knelt beside her; I called her again and again by every endearing and tender name I could think of; I kissed her sweet lips.

Oh, they were cold as ice, and chilled my blood! As one in a dream, I saw Heliobas advance; he kissed her forehead and mouth; he reverently unclasped the pearls from about her throat, and with them took off the electric stone.

Then Father Paul stepped slowly forward, and in place of that once brilliant gem, now so dim and destitute of fire, he laid a crucifix upon the fair and gentle breast, motionless for ever.
At sight of this sacred symbol, some tense cord seemed to snap in my brain, and I cried out wildly: "Oh, no, no! Not that! That is for the dead; Zara is not dead! It is all a mistake--a mistake! She will be quite well presently; and she will smile and tell you how foolish you were to think her dead! Dead?
She cannot be dead; it is impossible--quite impossible!" And I broke into a passion of sobs and tears.
Very gently and kindly Dr.Morini drew me away, and by dint of friendly persuasion, in which there was also a good deal of firm determination, led me into the hall, where he made me swallow a glass of wine.

As I could not control my sobs, he spoke with some sternness: "Mademoiselle, you can do no good by giving way in this manner.