Page:Twilight of the Souls (1917).djvu/313

Rh Yes, everything was dead, for the shivering cold which he felt could only be the cold shiver of death. . ..

Blue, was she blue? . . . The man lifted a corner of the sheet: Gerrit saw a face, pale as that of a mermaid whose features had blossomed up out of the icy stillness of a tragic pool. . . . The eyes were open. . . . What sad golden eyes those were! . . . Had they not always laughed. . . with golden gleams of mockery? . . . Then why did he now for the first time see them weeping. . . in death. . . see them mournfully staring. . . in death? . . . Had they never laughed? . . . Had they always gazed mournfully. . . even though they gleamed golden and mocked. . . or seemed to. . . seemed to? . . . Then what was real? . . . Was everything. . . was everything dead then? . . . Did he. . . dead. . . want to bring her his gift. . . what she had asked for so strangely. . . the portrait. . . the portrait of his children? . . . He had it here: he felt it lying on his chest. . . hard and heavy. . . like a plank, like a plank. . . He had it here. . ..

"Gerrit, dear, are you coming?"

Who was calling him from so very far away? . . . Wasn't it his sister? . . . His favourite sister? . ..

"Come along, Gerrit!"

Who were those calling him away from that