Oh! that night in the asylum, where his wife was dying, and the shrieks of the violent patients, and the great planet! Bending his head, heavy with grief, he happened to notice the paper which the footman had placed in his pocket.

It was a large black-edged envelope.

He opened it, and read the name and titles of his poor old mother-in-law, the Marchesa Nene Seremin, and the simple words that followed: "IN PEACE." He was as one turned to stone, holding the open, sheet in his hand, his eyes fixed on the words.

Then his hands began to tremble, and from his hands trembling rose to his breast, growing more and more violent till a storm of tears burst from his eyes.
He wept as many memories came to his mind, some sad, some sweet, brought back to him by the poor dead woman.

He wept with his eyes fixed upon the crucifix, upon Christ, to whom in her last moments she surely yielded herself up with the fullest confidence, like that other dear one, like his Elisa; he wept in gratitude to her, who even from that unknown world was kind to him, and softened his heart.