"Raise not thy hand against thyself," said the phantom, in a tone of awful reproof. "It is the Fiend prompts thee to do it. He would take advantage of thy misery to destroy thee."
"I took thee for the Fiend," replied Alizon, gazing at him with wonder rather than with terror. "Who art thou?"
"The enemy of thy enemies, and therefore thy friend," replied the monk. "I would have saved thy lover if I could, but his destiny was not to be averted. But, rest content, I will avenge him."
"I do not want vengeance—I want to be with him," she replied, frantically embracing the body.
"Thou wilt soon be with him," said the phantom, in tones of deep significance. "Arise, and come with me. Thy mother needs thy assistance."
"My mother!" exclaimed Alizon, clearing the blinding tresses from her brow. "Where is she?"
"Follow me, and I will bring thee to her," said the monk.
"And leave him? I cannot!" cried Alizon, gazing wildly at the body.
"You must. A soul is at stake, and will perish if you come not," said the monk. "He is at rest, and you will speedily rejoin him."
"With that assurance I will go," replied Alizon, with a last look at the object of her love. "One grave—lay us in one grave!"