e sought for other lovers, but I would not. You held release for me
within your hands, and if I might not have it from you I would forfeit
it for ever. Do not you bring release for me, my Edouard? Say that it
is so!"

An odd look came into the boy's face. He might have seen her for the
first time, and been dazzled by her beauty and the winsome sweetness
of her voice.

"Julie!" he whispered softly. "Poor, patient, faithful little Julie!"

In a single stride he crossed the intervening turf and was on his
knees before her, kissing her hands, the hem of her gown, her sandaled
feet, and babbling half-coherent, broken words of love.

She put her hands upon his head as if in benediction, then turned
them, holding them palm-forward to his lips, finally crooked her
fingers underneath his chin and raised his face. "Nay, love, sweet
love, art thou a worshipper and I a saint that thou should kneel to
me?" she asked him tenderly. "See, my lips are famishing for thine,
and wilt thou waste thy kisses on my hands and feet and garment? Make
haste, my heart, we have but little time, and I would know the kisses
of redemption ere----"

They clung together in the moonlight, her white-robed, lissome form
and his somberly-clad body seemed to melt and merge in one while her
hands reached up to clasp his cheeks and draw his face down to her
yearning, scarlet mouth.

De Grandin was reciting something in a mumbling monotone; his words
were scarcely audible, but I caught a phrase occasionally: "... rest
eternal grant to her, O Lord ... let light eternal shine upon her ...
from the gates of hell her soul deliver.... _Kyrie eleison_...."

"Julie!" we heard Ned's despairing cry, and:

"_Ha_, it comes, it has begun; it finishes!" de Grandin whispered
gratingly.

The girl had sunk down to the grass as though she swooned; one arm had
fallen limply from Ned's shoulder, but the other still was clasped
about his neck as we raced toward them. "_Adieu, mon amoureux; adieu
pour ce monde, adieu pour l'autre; adieu pour l'eternite!_" we heard
her sob. When we reached him, Ned knelt empty-armed before the tomb.
Of Julie there was neither sign nor trace.

"So, assist him, if you will, my friend," de Grandin bade, motioning
me to take Ned's elbow. "Help him to the gate. I follow quickly, but
first I have a task to do."

As I led Ned, staggering like a drunken man, toward the cemetery exit,
I heard the clang of metal striking metal at the tomb behind