that she could speak if she wanted to , and that others around her were crying too , that the woman with the iron gray hair was crying , and that the poor black-haired woman who had been crying all along was sobbing silently against the chest of the man beside her , and that the faces of those who did n't cry - everywhere she looked in the glow beyond the coffin - had become thoughtful and quiet , and rather like those faces in great florentine paintings where the passive , faintly sad souls regard the world beyond the frame as if from a dream , gazing out from the corners of their eyes , languidly .