They gather close, exchanging amused, indulgent looks. Be praised, my Lord, for Brother Fire, by whom you light up the night, for he is fair and merry, mighty and strong. So he is happy here, in the place they have made for him. Despite his illness, his blindness, the constant pain in his head, he is singing as cheerfully as a morning lark. Masseo steps forward and pushes the curtain aside.
Light floods the dark hovel.
He lets out a soft cry of dismay and backs away, holding the cloth so that the others looking past him can see what he has seen. Francesco lies upon his back, his arms folded over his chest, his hands partly hidden in his beard. His eyes are open, and though he cannot see, he appears to be looking right at them. The mice are everywhere. They cover the floor, squirm into the cracks in the walls, leap frantically from the table, trying to escape the light.