While she gazed, she heard a distant chanting rise through the aisles;
the sounds swelled in low murmurs on the ear, and drew nearer and
nearer, till a sudden blaze of light issued from one of the portals,
and the procession entered. The organ instantly sounded a high and
solemn peal, and the voices rising altogether swelled the sacred
strain. In front appeared the _Padre Abate_, with slow and measured
steps, bearing the holy cross. Immediately followed a litter, on which
lay the dying person covered with a white veil, borne along and
surrounded by nuns veiled in white, each carrying in her hand a
lighted taper. Last came the friars, two and two, cloathed in black,
and each bearing a light.
When they reached the high altar, the bier was rested, and in a few
moments the anthem ceased. 'The _Abate_ now approached to perform the
unction; the veil of the dying nun was lifted--and Julia discovered
her beloved Cornelia! Her countenance was already impressed with the
image of death, but her eyes brightened with a faint gleam of
recollection, when they fixed upon Julia, who felt a cold thrill run
through her frame, and leaned for support on madame. Julia now for
the first time distinguished the unhappy lover of Cornelia, on whose
features was depictured the anguish of his heart, and who hung pale
and silent over the bier. The ceremony being finished, the anthem
struck up; the bier was lifted, when Cornelia faintly moved her hand,
and it was again rested upon the steps of the altar. In a few minutes
the music ceased, when lifting her heavy eyes to her lover, with an
expression of ineffable tenderness and grief, she attempted to speak,
but the sounds died on her closing lips. A faint smile passed over her
countenance, and was succeeded by a fine devotional glow; she folded
her hands upon her bosom, and with a look of meek resignation, raising
towards heaven her eyes, in which now sunk the last sparkles of
expiring life--her soul departed in a short deep sigh.
Her lover sinking back, endeavoured to conceal his emotions, but the
deep sobs which agitated his breast betrayed his anguish, and the
tears of every spectator bedewed the sacred spot where beauty, sense,
and innocence expired.
The organ now swelled in mournful harmony; and the voices of the
assembly chanted in choral strain, a low and solemn requiem to the
spirit of the departed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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