"Life! life! blood! heat!" shouted Migajas, in despair, gesticulating like a maniac. "What is happening to me?"
The princess clasped him to her bosom, and kissing him with her red, waxen lips, exclaimed:
"You are mine, forever, forever, through time everlasting!"
Just then they heard a great commotion, and the sound of many voices crying,—
"It is time! it is time!"
The clock struck twelve, and all had disappeared, princess, palace, dolls, and emperors. Pacorrito was left alone.
XIII.
He was left alone in the most complete darkness. He tried to scream, but he was voiceless. He made frantic attempts to move, but he could not; he had turned to stone.
He waited in anguish. Day dawned at last; and Pacorrito had resumed his old appearance, but strange to say, he was all of one color, and apparently all of one substance,—his hands, his arms, his rags, his hair, and even the newspapers which he held in his hand.
"There is no doubt about it," said he; "I have turned into a stone."