and he went back to the place where
he abode, and he sat in his lonely room to await the coming of Folco's
messenger. His heart was heavy within him, and his thoughts were
troubled, and he feared the great fear. Then, to while away the weary
time, and to stay his care from feeding on his spirit, he sought some
work for his hands. He could write no verses, but because he was not
without skill as a draughtsman he took up, wherewith to draw, his tables
and a pencil, and he began to trace the face of an angel, and under his
working fingers the face of the angel had the face of a girl, and the
face of the girl was the face of Beatrice. But while he drew he became
of a sudden aware that there was another in the room with him, although
he knew that he had fastened the door behind him when he came in, and
that none could have entered without his knowledge. Turning his head, he
beheld that the God of Love was standing in the room, even as he seemed
in the form of the image that stood over the fountain by the bridge. But
now the bright feathers of his wings were faded, and his face was wan,
and the garment that he wore was no longer red but black, and he looked
very sadly upon Dante, and Dante felt his spirit grow cold and old
within him before that melancholy gaze. Then the God of Love made a sign
to Dante to rise and Dante rose, and Love beckoned to him to follow and
Dante followed. The God of Love went out at the door and down the stair
with Dante ever after him, and so into the air. No one in the street saw
that gloomy figure of Love, no one save Dante, and Dante followed his
guide through the bright evening, heeding no one, thinking no other
thought than to go where his mournful herald led him. The God of Love
conducted him to the house of Folco Portinari. Even as Dante came to the
door the door opened and a man came forth, and the man was Messer
Tommaso Severo, that was setting out to seek for Dante. Severo saw
Dante, but he did not see the God of Love, and he told Dante that he was
on the point of seeking him.

And Dante cried out one word--"Beatrice!"

And Messer Severo answered the question in his cry, very slowly and
sadly, "Madonna Beatrice is dead."

Then Dante cried, "Take me to her!" And after that he spoke no other
word, but walked in silence and tearless by Severo's side till they came
to the room where Beatrice lay in her last sleep. The women that were
about the bier drew away, and the God of Love took Dante