Out of the darkness into—such a light! An azure haze! Ah!—the delicious frost! ... All the streets were filled with the sweet blue mist ... Voiceless the City and white;—crooked and weed grown its narrow ways! ... Old streets of tombs, these ... Eh! How odd a custom!—a Night-bell at every door. Yes, of course!—a night-bell!—the Dead are Physicians of Souls: they may be summoned only by night,—called up from the darkness and silence ... Yet she?—might he not dare to ring for her even by day? ........ Strange he had deemed it day!—why, it was black, starless ... And it was growing queerly cold ...... How should he ever find her now? It was so black ... so cold! ...
—"Cheri!"
All the dwelling quivered with the mighty whisper.
Outside, the great oaks were trembling to their roots;—all the shore shook and blanched before the calling of the sea.
And Carmen, kneeling at the feet of the dead, cried out, alone in the night:—
—"O Jesus misericordioso!—tened compasion de el!"