But out of the silence there came a voice, soft and sweet, and more tender than a kiss....
“Come...! Do come...! I am here, dearest...!”
Freder did not stir. He knew the voice quite well. It was Maria’s voice, which he so loved. And yet it was a strange voice. Nothing in the world could be sweeter than the tone of this soft allurement—and nothing in the world has ever been so filled to overflowing with a dark, deadly wickedness.
Freder felt the drops upon his forehead.
“Who are you?” he asked expressionlessly.
“Don’t you know me?”
“Who are you?”
“... Maria....”
“You are not Maria....”
“Freder—!” mourned the voice—Maria’s voice.