And then a violent thing happened. Orosdi, having stood irresolute a moment, suddenly stepped to his lover’s side, kicked away the bones that lay at her knees, threw his arms around the girl’s body, lifted her from the ground, and carried her away to the shadow of the little stone building in which, hidden in rows of sacks, lie the bones of Ajvatli’s dead. There was no sound save a small hysterical laugh of joy from the girl. The old man heard them sighing in the shadow, and, like a knife, the thought of his own honeymoon stabbed his soul. He muttered rapidly to himself, and frowned. Then, pulling himself laboriously over the wall, he walked rapidly to the graveside, gathered the scattered bones together, and replaced them in the shallow grave. He did this quickly but tidily, feeling his decency shocked, and feeling, as he had never felt before, that his son was a stranger to him. He filled up the grave with earth, and smoothed the surface with the palms of his hands. And then, with a frightened prayer, he rose to his feet, made his way to the wall and clambered over. On the far side he stopped to listen a moment. But no sound reached him; the lovers were quiet in their bliss.
It was nearly midnight when they rose, and all the guardian semi-wild dogs of Ajvatli seemed to be barking together. Orosdi was full of quiet happiness: Stephanie had given herself to him and had promised herself in marriage. He placed his arm around her and began to lead her towards the iron gate of the cemetery. But, very gently, she put him away, saying:
“Leave me alone. I will see you to-morrow.”
“No!” he insisted. “You are mine now. What does it matter who sees us?”
“But you forget,” she protested. And as he did not appear to know what he had forgotten, she added: “You forget what we are leaving behind. I must put him away again.”
She walked towards the grave, he by her side. Simultaneously, on emerging from behind a tree, they discovered that the bones had disappeared, that the grave had been refilled, and that the earth above it was smooth and tidy. They stopped, and her hand sought his. He put his arms about her protectingly, though his fear equalled her own.
“He has gone back!” she muttered, awe-struck. And she stood gazing on the grave as though hypnotized.
“Come away,” he said, trembling; “your Mercury may return.”
Without another word they turned and, panic-stricken, rushed from the cemetery. At her house-door they stopped.
“What does it mean?” he asked.