"Leave me, Pauline! Leave me at once!" cried Raphael. "If you remain I shall die before your eyes."
"Die?" she said. "Die? You cannot. I love you--I love you!"
"Yes, die!" he exclaimed, showing her the little bit of skin. "Look, dearest. This is a talisman which represents the length of my life, and accomplishes my wishes. You see how little is left."
Pauline thought he had suddenly grown mad. She bent over him, and took up the magic skin. As Raphael saw her, beautiful with love and terror, he lost all control over his desires. To possess her again, and die on her breast!
"Come to me Pauline!" he said.
She felt the skin tickling her hand as it rapidly shrivelled up. She rushed into the bedroom, and closed the door.
"Pauline! Pauline!" cried the dying man, stumbling after her. "I love you! I want you! I wish to die for you!"
With extraordinary strength--the last outburst of life--he tore the door off the hinges, and saw Pauline in agony on a sofa. She had stabbed herself.
"If I die, he will live!" she was crying.
Raphael staggered across the room, and fell into the arms of beautiful Pauline, dead.