id
to them,--

"Oh, you children of Satan, why did you tempt me? I sold the poor,
innocent, trustful beast to get you, and now my child is dying!"

Her eldest son would stay at home, indeed; but if this little lame one
died! Rosina Calabucci would have given up the notes and consented never
to own five francs in her life if only she could have gone back over the
time and kept Moufflou, and seen his little master running out with him
into the sunshine.

More than a month went by, and Lolo lay in the same state, his yellow
hair shorn, his eyes dilated and yet stupid, life kept in him by a
spoonful of milk, a lump of ice, a drink of lemon-water; always
muttering, when he spoke at all, "Moufflou, Moufflou, _dov' e_
Moufflou?" and lying for days together in somnolence and
unconsciousness, with the fire eating at his brain and the weight lying
on it like a stone.

The neighbors were kind, and brought fruit and the like, and sat up with
him, and chattered so all at once in one continuous brawl that they were
enough in themselves to kill him, for such is ever the Italian fashion
of sympathy in all illness.

But Lolo did not get well, did not even seem to see the light at all, or
to distinguish any sounds around him; and the doctor in plain words told
Rosina Calabucci that her little boy must die. Die, and the church so
near! She could not believe it. Could St. Mark, and St. George, and the
rest that he had loved so do nothing for him? No, said the doctor, they
could do nothing; the dog might do something, since the brain had so
fastened on that one idea; but then they had sold the dog.

"Yes; I sold him!" said the poor mother, breaking into floods of
remorseful tears.

So at last the end drew so nigh that one twilight time the priest came
out of the great arched door that is next it. Mark, with the Host
uplifted, and a little acolyte ringing the bell before it, and passed
across the piazzetta, and went up the dark staircase of Rosina's
dwelling, and passed through the weeping, terrified children, and went
to the bedside of Lolo.

Lolo was unconscious, but the holy man touched his little body and limbs
with the sacred oil, and prayed over him, and then stood sorrowful with
bowed head.

Lolo had had his first communion in the summer, and in his preparation
for it had shown an intelligence and devoutness that had won the
priest's gentle heart.

Standing there, the holy man commended the innocent soul to God. It was