eart--but this time with the joy of one who is swept up from the
very threshold of hell into paradise.

CHAPTER XXXV

"Larry--Farewell!"

"My heart, Larry--" It was the handmaiden's murmur. "My heart feels
like a bird that is flying from a nest of sorrow."

We were pacing down the length of the bridge, guards of the _Akka_
beside us, others following with those companies of _ladala_ that had
rushed to aid us; in front of us the bandaged Rador swung gently
within a litter; beside him, in another, lay Nak, the frog-king--much
less of him than there had been before the battle began, but living.

Hours had passed since the terror I have just related. My first task
had been to search for Throckmartin and his wife among the fallen
multitudes strewn thick as autumn leaves along the flying arch of
stone, over the cavern ledge, and back, back as far as the eye could
reach.

At last, Lakla and Larry helping, we found them. They lay close to
the bridge-end, not parted--locked tight in each other's arms, pallid
face to face, her hair streaming over his breast! As though when that
unearthly life the Dweller had set within them passed away, their own
had come back for one fleeting instant--and they had known each other,
and clasped before kindly death had taken them.

"Love is stronger than all things." The handmaiden was weeping softly.
"Love never left them. Love was stronger than the Shining One. And
when its evil fled, love went with them--wherever souls go."

Of Stanton and Thora there was no trace; nor, after our discovery of
those other two, did I care to look more. They were dead--and they
were free.

We buried Throckmartin and Edith beside Olaf in Lakla's bower. But
before the body of my old friend was placed within the grave I gave it
a careful and sorrowful examination. The skin was firm and smooth, but
cold; not the cold of death, but with a chill that set my touching
fingers tingling unpleasantly. The body was bloodless; the course of
veins and arteries marked by faintly indented white furrows, as though
their walls had long collapsed. Lips, mouth, even the tongue, was
paper white. There was no sign of dissolution as we know it; no shadow
or stain upon the marble surface. Whatever the force that, streaming
from the Dweller or impregnating its lair, had energized the
dead-alive, it was barrier against putrescence of any kind; that at
least was certain.

But it was not barrier against the poison of the