I listened to what he said,
and besides, read his thoughts in his face. He was deeply impressed
with the importance of the moment; there was also curiosity as to the
future life,--not a shadow of doubt as to its existence, but rather a
certain uneasiness about how he would be received, joined to an almost
unconscious, unsophisticated belief that he would not be treated as a
mere nobody in particular. I shall never die like this, because I have
no basis to uphold me in the hour of death. My father parted with his
life in absolute faith and the deep contrition of a true Christian. At
the moment when he received the last sacraments he was so venerable,
so purely saintly, that his image will remain with me always.
How futile, how miserable, appears to me my scepticism in presence of
that immense power of faith that, stronger even than love, triumphs
over death at the very moment when it extinguishes life. After having
received the last sacraments, a great tenderness took possession of
him. He grasped my hand strongly, almost convulsively, and did not let
it go again, as if through me he wanted to hold fast to life. And yet
it was neither fear nor despair that moved him, he was not in the
least afraid. Presently I saw the eyes riveted upon my face grow dim
and fixed, his forehead became moist, as if covered by a gentle dew;
he opened his mouth several times as if to catch his breath,--sighed
deeply once more,--and died.
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