"You—you didn't kill them outright, then?" said Leander, not feeling quite sure whether he would be glad or not to hear that they had forfeited their lives.
"They were unworthy of such a death," she said; "so I let them crawl away. Henceforth they will respect our images."
"I should say they would, most likely, madam," agreed Leander. "I do assure you, I'm almost glad of it myself—I am; it served them both right."
"Almost glad! And do you not rejoice from your heart that I yet remain to you?"
"Why," said Leander, "it is, in course, a most satisfactory and agreeable termination, I'm sure."
"Who knows whether, if this my image had once been removed from you, I could have found it in my power to return?" she said; "for, I ween, the power that is left me has limits. I might never have appeared to you again. Think of it, Leander."
"I was thinking of it," he replied. "It quite upsets me to think how near it was."
"You are moved. You love me well, do you not, Leander?"
"Oh! I suppose I do," he said—"well enough."
"Well enough to abandon this gross existence, and fly with me where none can separate us?"