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 Siradella. '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 sang a hymn from Marcello. Chopin again feeling
worse, everybody was seized with fright--by a spontaneous
impulse all who were present threw themselves upon their
knees--no one ventured to speak; the sacred silence was only
broken by the voice of the Countess, floating, like a melody
from heaven, above the sighs and sobs which formed its heavy
and mournful earth accompaniment. It was the haunted hour of
twilight; a dying light lent its mysterious shadows to this sad
scene--the sister of Chopin, prostrated near his bed, wept and
prayed--and never quitted this attitude of supplication while
the life of the brother she had so cherished lasted.

'His condition altered for the worse during the night, but he
felt more tranquil upon Monday morning, and as if he had known
in advance the appointed and propitious moment, he asked to
receive immediately the last sacraments. In the absence of the
Abbe ----, with whom he had been very intimate since their
common expatriation, he requested that the Abbe Jelowicki, one
of the most distinguished men of the Polish emigration, should
be sent for. When the holy Viaticum was administered to him, he
received it, surrounded by those who loved him, with great
devotion. He called his friends a short time afterward, one by
one, to his bedside, to give each of them his last earnest
blessing; calling down the grace of God fervently upon
themselves, their affections, and their hopes--every knee
bent--every head bowed--all eyes were heavy with tears--every
heart was sad and oppressed--every soul elevated.

'Attacks, more and more painful, returned and continued during
the day;