Eros went into the castle and fell upon the purple bed.
A single dove was expiring at the marble basin.
The strings of the lyre were all broken....
Eros too felt that his life was leaving his body.
He raised his eyes, over which the film of death was stealing, and looked about the castle; the crystal crumbled off and split from the top to the bottom.
“Sacred powers!” prayed he, “forgive her as I forgive her, and love her till the End, as I shall and for ever. Let her find what she seeks; let her wanderings once come to an end; let her soar through the air, if she must, till she comes to the purest sphere....” This sphere was the earth, the sweet Present, the little resting-point on which she could not wander, and thus felt within her the irresistible desire....
“Sacred powers, let her one day find what her happiness is. Then, if it is not I.... Let her find....”
His voice failed, his eyes opened as in a vision, and he whispered and finished his prayer: “... find ... in the Future...!”
That sacred word was his last. He died.
In the Kingdom of the Present, that once had been as a smiling garden, everything was now dead....