The spirit
of the girl which was passing away from under them clung to her triumph
convinced of the reality of her victory over death.
"No more," she muttered. "There will be no more! Oh, my beloved," she
cried weakly, "I've saved you! Why don't you take me into your arms and
carry me out of this lonely place?"
Heyst bent low over her, cursing his fastidious soul, which even at that
moment kept the true cry of love from his lips in its infernal mistrust
of all life. He dared not touch her and she had no longer the strength
to throw her arms about his neck.
"Who else could have done this for you?" she whispered gloriously.
"No one in the world," he answered her in a murmur of unconcealed
despair.
She tried to raise herself, but all she could do was to lift her head
a little from the pillow. With a terrible and gentle movement, Heyst
hastened to slip his arm under her neck. She felt relieved at once of
an intolerable weight, and was content to surrender to him the infinite
weariness of her tremendous achievement. Exulting, she saw herself
extended on the bed, in a black dress, and profoundly at peace, while,
stooping over her with a kindly, playful smile, he was ready to lift
her up in his firm arms and take her into the sanctuary of his innermost
heart--for ever! The flush of rapture flooding her whole being broke out
in a smile of innocent, girlish happiness; and with that divine radiance
on her lips she breathed her, last triumphant, seeking for his glance in
the shades of death.
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