She gazed down for a moment at the motionless features.  Womanly thoughtful, she moved his head a little, and straightened the wig upon his poor forehead.  Then, in an instant, she realised all, and with a wild cry of despair fell prostrate upon his body in an agony of passionate weeping.  How long she lay, she knew not.  A knock at the door did not reach her ears, nor another and another, at short intervals; and then some one entered.  It was the butler, who had come to announce the mid-day breakfast.  He uttered an exclamation and started back, holding the handle of the door in his hand.

Corona raised herself slowly to her knees, gazing down once more upon the dead man’s face.  Then she lifted her streaming eyes and saw the servant.

“Your master is dead,” she said, solemnly.

The man grew pale and trembled, hesitated, and then turned and fled down the hall without, after the manner of Italian servants, who fear death, and even the sight of it, as they fear nothing else in the world.

Corona rose to her feet and brushed the tears from her eyes.  Then she turned and rang the bell.  No one answered the summons for some time.  The news had spread all over the house in an instant, and everything was disorganised.  At last a woman came and stood timidly at the door.  She was a lower servant, a simple strong creature from the mountains.  Seeing the others terrified and paralysed, it had struck her common-sense that her mistress was alone.  Corona understood.

“Help me to carry him,” she said, quietly; and the peasant and the noble lady stooped and lifted the dead duke, and bore him to his chamber without a word, and laid him tenderly upon his bed.

“Send for the doctor,” said Corona; “I will watch beside him.”

“But, Excellency, are you not afraid?” asked the woman.

Corona’s lip curled a little.

“I am not afraid,” she answered.  “Send at once.”  When the woman was gone, she sat down by the bedside and waited.  Her tears were dry now, but she could not think.  She waited motionless for an hour.  Then the old physician entered softly, while a crowd of servants stood without, peering timidly through the open door.  Corona crossed the room and quietly shut it.  The physician stood by the bedside.

“It is simple enough, Signora Duchessa,” he said, gently.  “He is quite dead.  It was only the day before yesterday that I warned him that the heart disease was worse.  Can you tell me how it happened?”

“Yes, exactly,” answered Corona, in a low voice.  She was calm enough now.  “He came into my room two hours ago, and suddenly, in conversation, he became very angry.  Then his anger subsided in a moment, and he fell at my feet.”

“It is just as I expected,” answered the physician, quietly.  “They always die in this way.  I entreat you to be calm—­to consider that all men are mortal—­”

“I am calm now,” interrupted Corona.  “I am alone.  Will you see that what is necessary is done quickly?  I will leave you for a moment.  There are people outside.”