a contagious plague; conflagrations which wrap whole
cities in their glittering flames; fathomless abysses which open at our
feet;--remove us less sensibly from all the fleeting attachments "which
pass, which can be broken, which cease," than the prolonged view of a
soul conscious of its own position, silently contemplating the multiform
aspects of time and the mute door of eternity! The courage, the
resignation, the elevation, the emotion, which reconcile it with that
inevitable dissolution so repugnant to all our instincts, certainly
impress the bystanders more profoundly than the most frightful
catastrophes, which, in the confusion they create, rob the scene of its
still anguish, its solemn meditation.

The parlor adjoining the chamber of Chopin was constantly occupied by
some of his friends, who, one by one, in turn, approached him to receive
a sign of recognition, a look of affection, when he was no longer able
to address them in words. On Sunday, the 15th of October, his attacks
were more violent and more frequent--lasting for several hours in
succession. He endured them with patience and great strength of mind.
The Countess Delphine Potocka, who was present, was much distressed; her
tears were flowing fast when he observed her standing at the foot of
his bed, tall, slight, draped in white, resembling the beautiful angels
created by the imagination of the most devout among the painters.
Without doubt, he supposed her to be a celestial apparition; and when
the crisis left him a moment in repose, he requested her to sing; they
deemed him at first seized with delirium, but he eagerly repeated his
request. Who could have ventured--to oppose his wish? The piano was
rolled from his parlor to the door of his chamber, while, with sobs in
her voice, and tears streaming down her cheeks, his gifted countrywoman
sang. Certainly, this delightful voice had never before attained an
expression so full of profound pathos. He seemed to suffer less as he
listened. She sang that famous Canticle to the Virgin, which, it is
said, once saved the life of Stradella. "How beautiful it is!"
he exclaimed. "My God, how very beautiful! Again--again!" Though
overwhelmed with emotion, the Countess had the noble courage to comply
with the last wish of a friend, a compatriot; she again took a seat at
the piano, and sung a hymn from Marcello. Chopin again feeling worse,
everybody was seized with fright--by a spontaneous impulse all who were
present