230
IN MAREMMA.
mule was in his place, munching straw and the withered leaves of cane.
She went thence into the room of Joconda; Leone did not cease to howl, although he saw her. Joconda still lay sleeping.
'She must be ill,' thought Musa, with a sudden pang, and the chillness of a new vague terror falling on her.
She sprang to the bedside where the dog lay moaning. Joconda had not moved since the night; only on her face there was shining, instead of the silvery moonlight, the yellowish, sickly glare of the setting sun.
She had died in her sleep.
A terrible cry rang through the empty house out to the seashore.
Musa was left alone.
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