It was ten o'clock one cold morning towards the end of the winter, the
air was sharp, and the clear heavens were brightened up by the
beautiful sunshine. In her great royal bed, draped with its old, faded,
rose-coloured chintz, she lay motionless, having been unconscious during
the whole night. Stretched upon her back, her little ivory-like hands
carelessly thrown upon the sheet, she no longer even opened her eyes,
and her finely-cut profile looked more delicate than ever under the
golden halo of her hair; in fact, anyone who had seen her would have
thought her already dead, had it not been for the slight breathing
movement of her lips.
The day before, Angelique, realising that she was very ill, had
confessed, and partaken of the Communion. Towards three o'clock in
the afternoon the good Abbe Cornille had brought to her the sacred
_Viaticum_. Then in the evening, as the chill of death gradually crept
over her, a great desire came to her to receive the Extreme Unction,
that celestial remedy, instituted for the cure of both the soul and
body. Before losing consciousness, her last words, scarcely murmured,
were understood by Hubertine, as in hesitating sentences she
expressed her wish for the holy oils.
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