One night in May she tossed about and dreamed aloud. I had been reading all night, and noticed all of a sudden that daylight was coming. I blew out the night-light and tried to sleep a little. I was just dropping off when Sister Desiree-des-Anges said, "Open the window, he is coming to-day." I looked to see whether she was asleep, and saw that she was sitting up in bed. She had drawn back her blanket, and was untying the strings of her night-cap. She took it off and threw it to the foot of the bed. Then she shook her head, her short hair rolled into curls on her forehead, and I recognized Desiree Joly at once. I was a little bit frightened, and got up. She said again, "Open the window and let him in." I opened the window wide, and when I turned round Sister Desiree-des-Anges was holding out her clasped hands towards the sun, and in a voice which had suddenly grown weaker, she said, "I have taken off my dress. I could not stand it any longer." She lay down quietly, and her face became quite still. I held my breath for a long time to listen to hers. Then I breathed hard, as though I could give her my breath, but when I looked at her more closely I saw that she had breathed her last. Her eyes were wide open, and seemed to be looking at a sunbeam which was coming towards her like a long arrow. Swallows flew past the window and flew back again, chirruping like little girls, and my ears were filled with sounds which I had never heard before. I looked up to the windows of the dormitories, hoping that somebody would hear what I had to say, but I saw nothing but the face of the big clock which seemed to be looking down into the room over the linden trees. It was five o'clock. I pulled the blanket up over Sister Desiree-des-Anges and went out and rang the bell. I rang for a long time. The notes went far, far away. They went right away to where Sister Desiree-des-Anges had gone. I went on ringing because it seemed to me that the bells were telling the world that Sister Desiree-des-Anges was dead. I went on ringing too, because I hoped that she would pop her beautiful face out of the window and say, "That'll do, that'll do, Marie Claire." Melanie pulled the rope out of my hands. The bell, which was up, fell back all wrong, and gave a sort of groan. "You have been ringing for a quarter of an hour or more," Melanie said. I answered, "Sister Desiree-des-Anges is dead." Veronique went into the room after us. She noticed that the white curtain was not drawn between the two beds, and said that she thought it was disgraceful for a religious to let her hair be seen. Melanie passed her finger over a tear which was rolling down each of her cheeks. Her head was more on one side than ever, and she whispered quite low, "She is even prettier than she was before." The sunshine bathed the bed, and covered the dead woman from head to foot.