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To her it is an awful moment. Never before has she stood face to face with dissolution, to wait for the snapping of the chain,—the breaking of the bowl. "Neither the sun nor death," says La Rochefoucauld, "can be looked at steadily;" and now "Death's thousand doors stand open" to receive this man that but an hour agone was full of life as she is now. His pulses throbbed, his blood coursed lightly through his veins, the grave seemed a far-off destination; yet here he lies, smitten to the earth, beaten down and trodden under, with nothing further to anticipate but the last change of all. "Now, then, cheer up, Paddy!" he says to the boy: "yonder lies an oasis in our howling wilderness." "Mona! what are you going to say to me?".
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Conrad
"I dare say," she says, carelessly, purposely mistaking his meaning: "it must have been cold lying there." It is ten days later. The air is growing brisker, the flowers bear no new buds. More leaves are falling on the woodland paths, and the trees are throwing out their last bright autumn tints of red and brown and richest orange, that tell all too plainly of the death that lies before them. "Yes, let us," says Mona, gayly. A moment later a big bull jumped high over the wall of the piskun and came toward her, and now truly she was frightened..
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