Then the vibration stopped. The professor seemed to know it, probably from the relaxed intentness of my expression. He said not a word, but motioned me to follow him. We moved to another grave where he repeated the operations. Then came these words to my ears:
“Too late, too late; everything came for me too late. They even tried to cure me too late. Alas, poor Dorothy!”
The next grave gave forth these words:
“I believed in God and said my prayers. That was my only solace.”
We moved again to a mound covered with fresh earth and new flowers. The professor whispered that the lately dead often had confused ideas. This was the message:
“Last night was my first night in the grave. I trusted my lover. His faithlessness turned me into a bad woman. I weighed only ninety-two pounds when I died. I wish that I could drink and dance with him once more. I wish I could see his eyes beam on me. I do love him.”
The words ceased to come and the vibration stopped.
The professor whispered that he would go to three more graves and then depart.
The first gave out only one sentence:
“I married a man whom I did not love, yet I kept him from knowing the truth.”