Kit shook her head. "All I heard," she said, "was one of the Quagmires calling Violet's name."
Sunny looked into the face of the distraught woman."Quigley," the youngest Baudelaire could not help asking "or Duncan?"
"I don't know," Kit said again. "I'm sorry, Baudelaires. I failed you. You succeeded in your noble errands at the Hotel Denouement, and saved Dewey and the others, but I don't know if we'll ever see the Quagmires and their companions again. I hope you will forgive my failures, and when I see Dewey again I hope he will forgive me, too."
The Baudelaire orphans looked at one another sadly, realizing it was time at last to tell Kit Snicket the whole story, as she had told them. "We'll forgive your failures," Violet said, "if you'll forgive ours."
"We failed you, too," Klaus said. "We had to burn down the Hotel Denouement, and we don't know if anyone escaped to safety."
Sunny gripped Kit's hand in hers. "And Dewey is dead," she said, and everyone burst into tears. There is a kind of crying I hope you have not experienced, and it is not just crying about something terrible that has happened, but a crying for all of the terrible things that have happened, not just to you but to everyone you know and to everyone you don't know and even the people you don't want to know, a crying that cannot be diluted by a brave deed or a kind word, but only by someone holding you as your shoulders shake and your tears run down your face. Sunny held Kit, and Violet held Klaus, and for a minute the four castaways did nothing but weep, letting their tears run down their faces and into the sea, which some have said is nothing but a library of all the tears in history. Kit and the children let their sadness join the sadness of the world, and cried for all of the people who were lost to them. They cried for Dewey Denouement, and for the Quagmire triplets, and for all of their companions and guardians, friends and associates, and for all of the failures they could forgive and all of the treacheries they could endure. They cried for the world, and most of all, of course, the Baudelaire orphans cried for their parents, who they knew, finally, they would never see again. Even though Kit Snicket had not brought news of their parents, her story of the Great Unknown made them see at last that the people who had written all those chapters in A Series of Unfortunate Events were gone forever into the great unknown, and that Violet, Klaus, and Sunny would be orphans forever, too.
"Stop," Kit said finally, through her fading tears. "Stop pushing the raft. I cannot go on."
"We have to go on," Violet said.
"We're almost at the beach," Klaus said.
"The shelf is flooding," Sunny said.
"Let it flood," Kit said. "I can't do it, Baudelaires. I've lost too many people—my parents, my true love, and my brothers."
At the mention of Kit's brothers, Violet thought to reach into her pocket, and she retrieved the ornate ring, emblazoned with the initial R. "Sometimes the things you've lost can be found again in unexpected places," she said, and held the ring up for Kit to see. The distraught woman removed her gloves, and held the ring in her bare and trembling hand.
"This isn't mine," she said. "It belonged to your mother."
"Before it belonged to our mother," Klaus said, "it belonged to you."
"Its history began before we were born," Kit said, "and it should continue after we die. Give it to my child, Baudelaires. Let my child be part of my history, even if the baby is an orphan, and all alone in the world."
"The baby will not be alone," Violet said fiercely. "If you die, Kit, we will raise this child as our own."
"I could not ask for better," Kit said quietly. "Name the baby after one of your parents, Baudelaires. The custom of my family is to name a baby for someone who has died."
"Ours too," Sunny said, remembering something her father had told her when she had inquired about her own name.
"Our families have always been close," Kit said, "even if we had to stay apart from one another. Now, finally, we are all together, as if we are one family."
"Then let us help you," Sunny said, and with a weepy, wheezy nod, Kit Snicket let the Baudelaires push her Vaporetto of Favorite Detritus off the coastal shelf and onto the shores of the island, where eventually everything arrives, just as the outrigger disappeared on the horizon. The children gazed at the islanders for the last time—at least as far as I know—and then at the cube of books, and tried to imagine how the injured, pregnant, and distraught woman could get to a safe place to birth a child.
"Can you lower yourself down?" Violet asked.
Kit shook her head. "It hurts," she said, her voice thick with the poisonous fungus.
"We can carry her," Klaus said, but Kit shook her head again.
"I'm too heavy," she said weakly. "I could fall from your grasp and hurt the baby."
"We can invent a way to get you to the shore," Violet said."Yes," Klaus said. "We'll just run to the arboretum to find what we need."
"No time," Sunny said, and Kit nodded in agreement.
"The baby's coming quickly," she said. "Find someone to help you."
"We're alone," Violet said, but then she and her siblings gazed out at the beach where the raft had arrived, and the Baudelaires saw, crawling out of Ishmael's tent, the one person for whom they had not shed a tear. Sunny slid down to the sand, bringing the stockpot with her, and the three children hurried up the slope to the struggling figure of Count Olaf.
"Hello, orphans," he said, his voice even wheezier and rougher from the spreading poison of the Medusoid Mycelium. Esme's dress had fallen away from his skinny body, and he was crawling on the sand in his regular clothes, with one hand holding a seashell of cordial and the other clutching at his chest. "Are you here to bow before the king of Olaf-Land?"
"We don't have time for your nonsense," Violet said. "We need your help."
Count Olaf's eyebrow raised, and he gave the children an astonished glare. "You need my help?" he asked. "What happened to all those island fools?"
"They abandoned us," Klaus said.
Olaf wheezed horridly, and it took the siblings a moment to realize he was laughing. "How do you like them apples?" he sputtered, using an expression which means "I find this situation quite remarkable."
"We'll give you apples," Sunny said, gesturing to the stockpot, "if you help."
"I don't want fruit," Olaf snarled, and tried to sit up, his hand still clutching his chest. "I want the fortune your parents left behind."
"The fortune isn't here," Violet said. "None of us may ever see a penny of that money."