“You think of robbing me of her?”
“No! I think of uniting thee.”
“You told me once that no other arms than yours or mine should ever enfold her,” murmured Tito, with desperation. “Whose is she to be first—yours or mine? Tell me!”
“Thou art jealous of me?”
“Horribly so.”
“Thou art wrong,” replied Death.
“Whose is she to be first?” repeated the youth, seizing the cold hands of his friend.
“I cannot answer thee. God, thou and I dispute her; but we three are not incompatible.”
“Tell me that you do not intend to kill her. Tell me that you will unite us in this world.”
“In this world!” repeated Death, ironically. “Yes, it will be in this world, I promise thee.”