thunder, the flashing of lightning, the hissing rain, and the knocking at the door, there lay before him what seemed to be a corpse, white, still, silent, with purple lips. All the while, kneeling beside the couch, louder and louder did he pray. The doors broke open; the father, priest, and others entered.
"O Madeline!" cried the father,
"She is dying," said Satiani.
The women began to cry and the priest to pray. The father ran to the wife, who was lying in an up-stairs room; and Irène helped Satiani from his knees and led him to a seat, where he lay seemingly exhausted. Another candle was placed beside Madeline 's head, and before long there was no other sound in the darkened room save the prayer of her good father confessor and the echoes of thunder from the vanishing storm.
