“Farewell, ye granite rocks that shall bloom a flower; farewell, flower that becomes a dove; farewell, dove that shalt be woman; farewell, woman, who art Suffering, man, who art Belief!  Farewell, you who shall be all love, all prayer!”

Broken with fatigue, this inexplicable being leaned for the first time on Wilfrid and on Minna to be taken home.  Wilfrid and Minna felt the shock of a mysterious contact in and through the being who thus connected them.  They had scarcely advanced a few steps when David met them, weeping.  “She will die,” he said, “why have you brought her hither?”

The old man raised her in his arms with the vigor of youth and bore her to the gate of the Swedish castle like an eagle bearing a white lamb to his mountain eyrie.

CHAPTER VI

THE PATH TO HEAVEN

The day succeeding that on which Seraphita foresaw her death and bade farewell to Earth, as a prisoner looks round his dungeon before leaving it forever, she suffered pains which obliged her to remain in the helpless immobility of those whose pangs are great.  Wilfrid and Minna went to see her, and found her lying on her couch of furs.  Still veiled in flesh, her soul shone through that veil, which grew more and more transparent day by day.  The progress of the Spirit, piercing the last obstacle between itself and the Infinite, was called an illness, the hour of Life went by the name of death.  David wept as he watched her sufferings; unreasonable as a child, he would not listen to his mistress’s consolations.  Monsieur Becker wished Seraphita to try remedies; but all were useless.

One morning she sent for the two beings whom she loved, telling them that this would be the last of her bad days.  Wilfrid and Minna came in terror, knowing well that they were about to lose her.  Seraphita smiled to them as one departing to a better world; her head drooped like a flower heavy with dew, which opens its calyx for the last time to waft its fragrance on the breeze.  She looked at these friends with a sadness that was for them, not for herself; she thought no longer of herself, and they felt this with a grief mingled with gratitude which they were unable to express.  Wilfrid stood silent and motionless, lost in thoughts excited by events whose vast bearings enabled him to conceive of some illimitable immensity.

Emboldened by the weakness of the being lately so powerful, or perhaps by the fear of losing him forever, Minna bent down over the couch and said, “Seraphitus, let me follow thee!”

“Can I forbid thee?”

“Why will thou not love me enough to stay with me?”

“I can love nothing here.”

“What canst thou love?”

“Heaven.”

“Is it worthy of heaven to despise the creatures of God?”