Perceiving that he was utterly unable to do so, he hastily signed the figure and resumed his reading.

How long he would have gabbled on it is impossible to say, but a gasping sound from the dying man declared that dissolution was at hand, and, snatching the chalice, he hastily administered the wafer, which was swallowed with difficulty.

For the third time, Father Mazzolin strove to replace the crucifix in his hand and bend it to his lips.

The cold fingers refused to clasp the consecrated wood, and sank, stiffened and powerless, by his side.
Mary had gazed mournfully on as this mummery was enacted.

A death-bed for a theater, weeping relatives an audience, and Father Mazzolin an amateur performer.