“Oh! I shall die instantly!” exclaimed Tito; “I am at the North Pole.”
“Thou wilt not die, because thou art already dead; but thou wilt sleep until three in the afternoon, then thou wilt wake with all past generations.”
“My friend!” exclaimed Tito, with indescribable bitterness, “do not leave me; or let me continue dreaming. I do not wish to sleep. This dreaming frightens me. This sepulchre suffocates me. Return me to the villa on the Guadarrama, where I imagined I saw Elena, and let the destruction of the universe surprise me there. I believe in God. I revere his justice, and I appeal to his mercy, but take me back to Elena!”
“What supreme love!” said the deity. “It has triumphed over life, and it is about to triumph over death. It scorned the earth and it will scorn heaven. It shall be as thou desirest, Tito; but do not forget thy soul.”
“Oh! my friend, I thank you! I see that you will carry me to Elena’s side.”
“No, I will not carry thee to her. Elena sleeps in her sepulchre. I will have her come to thee, that she may sleep the last hours of death by thy side.”
“We will one day be interred together! Ah! it is too much happiness! I may see her; hear her say that she loves me; know that she will remain forever at my side, on earth or in heaven, and the darkness of the tomb will be as nothing to me.”
“Come, then, Elena! I command it!” said Death, with cavernous accent, tapping on the floor with his foot.
Elena, to all appearances the same as when we left her in the garden of Guadarrama enshrouded in her white robes, but pale as alabaster, appeared in that room of ice, in which this scene had occurred.
Tito received her kneeling, his face wet with tears, his hands clasped. Turning, he cast a look of profound gratitude on the gentle countenance of Death.