(Enter, from a darkness in the mountains,
the Woman in flame-color. Her ashen
mantle is now thrown back, but still
clings to her. She stands mournfully
regarding Dr. Thorne. She does not
address him, but slowly extends her
arms.)
(Dr. Thorne does not observe the Woman. She does not obtrude herself upon his attention.)
[Exit the Woman into the darkness
whence she came.
Dr. Thorne (with frowning face descends; he murmurs). And a few days ago I was troubled because I had lost a few thousand dollars in Santa Ma.... I saved up money! (Scornfully.) I would accumulate a fortune. Oh, the whole of it, ten hundred thousand-fold the whole of it, for one hour in a dead man’s desolated home! (Pushes downwards, suddenly and silently.)
Enter Azrael, Angel of Death. (The
pass blackens. The mountain summit
is wrapped in darkness.)
(Azrael stands tall and resplendent. He is a white-robed figure, winged and powerful. The light falls only upon Azrael and upon the man. It can be seen that this gleam comes from a sword held in the hand of the Angel. Without a word he lifts the flaming sword, and with it bars the narrow pass from side to side.)
Dr. Thorne (in a ringing voice). Azrael!
(Azrael does not reply.)
Dr. Thorne (under his breath). Azrael, Angel of Death! (Falls back.)