the dead of old saint denis lay in dreamless sleep beneath the palely argent rays of the fast-waxing moon. the oven-like tombs were gay with hardly-wilted flowers; for two days before was all saints' day, and no grave in all new orleans is so lowly, no dead so long interred, that pious hands do not bear blossoms of remembrance to them on that feast of memories.

de grandin had been busily engaged all afternoon, making mysterious trips to the old negro quarter in company with a patriarchal scion of indian and negro ancestry who professed ability to guide him to the city's foremost practitioner of voodoo; returning to the hotel only to dash out again to consult his friend at the cathedral; coming back to stare with thoughtful eyes upon the changing panorama of canal street while ned, nervous as a race-horse at the barrier, tramped up and down the room lighting cigarette from cigarette and drinking absinthe frappés alternating with sharp, bitter sazarac cocktails till i wondered that he did not fall in utter alcoholic collapse. by evening i had that eery feeling that the sane experience when alone with mad folk. i was ready to shriek at any unexpected noise or turn and run at sight of a strange shadow.

"my friend," de grandin ordered as we reached the grass-paved corridor of tombs where ned had told us the d'ayen vaults were, "i suggest that you drink this." from an inner pocket he drew out a tiny flask of ruby glass and snapped its stopper loose. a strong and slightly acrid scent came to me, sweet and spicy, faintly reminiscent of the odor of the aromatic herbs one smells about a mummy's wrappings.

"thanks, i've had enough to drink already," ned said shortly.

"you are informing me, mon vieux?" the little frenchman answered with a smile. "it is for that i brought this draft along. it will help you draw yourself together. you have need of all your faculties this time, believe me."

ned put the bottle to his lips, drained its contents, hiccuped lightly, then braced his shoulders. "that is a pick-up," he complimented. "too bad you didn't let me have it sooner, sir. i think i can go through the ordeal now."

"one is sure you can," the frenchman answered confidently. "walk slowly toward the spot where you last saw julie, if you please. we shall await you here, in easy call if we are needed."

the aisle of tombs was empty as ned left us. the turf had been fresh-mown for the day of visitation and was as smooth and short as a lawn tennis court. a field-mouse could not have run across the pathway without our seeing it. this much i noticed idly as ned trudged away from us, walking more like a man on his way to the gallows than one who went to keep a lovers' rendezvous ... and suddenly he was not alone. there was another with him, a girl dressed in a clinging robe of sheer white muslin cut in the charming fashion of the first empire, girdled high beneath the bosom with a sash of light-blue ribbon. a wreath of pale gardenias lay upon her bright, fair hair; her slender arms were pearl-white in the moonlight. as she stepped toward ned i thought involuntarily of a line from sir john suckling:

"her feet ... like little mice stole in and out."

"édouard, chêri! o, coeur de mon coeur, c'est véritablement toi? thou hast come willingly, unasked, petit amant?"

"i'm here," ned answered steadily, "but only——" he paused and drew a sudden gasping breath, as though a hand had been laid on his throat.

"chèri," the girl asked in a trembling voice, "you are cold to me; do not you love me, then—you are not here because your heart heard my heart calling? o heart of my heart's heart, if you but knew how i have longed and waited! it has been triste, mon édouard, lying in my narrow bed alone while winter rains and summer suns beat down, listening for your footfall. i could have gone out at my pleasure whenever moonlight made the nights all bright with silver; i could have sought for other lovers, but i would not. you held release for me within your hands, and if i might not have it from you i would forfeit it for ever. do not you bring release for me, my édouard? say that it is so!"

an odd look came into the boy's face. he might have seen her for the first time, and been dazzled by her beauty and the winsome sweetness of her voice.

"julie!" he whispered softly. "poor, patient, faithful little julie!"

in a single stride he crossed the intervening turf and was on his knees before her, kissing her hands, the hem of her gown, her sandaled feet, and babbling half-coherent, broken words of love.

she put her hands upon his head as if in benediction, then turned them, holding them palm-forward to his lips, finally crooked her fingers underneath his chin and raised his face. "nay, love, sweet love, art thou a worshipper and i a saint that thou should kneel to me?" she asked him tenderly. "see, my lips are famishing for thine, and wilt thou waste thy kisses on my hands and feet and garment? make haste, my heart, we have but little time, and i would know the kisses of redemption ere——"

they clung together in the moonlight, her white-robed, lissome form and his somberly-clad body seemed to melt and merge in one while her hands reached up to clasp his cheeks and draw his face down to her yearning, scarlet mouth.

de grandin was reciting something in a mumbling monotone; his words were scarcely audible, but i caught a phrase occasionally: "... rest eternal grant to her, o lord ... let light eternal shine upon her ... from the gates of hell her soul deliver.... kyrie eleison...."

"julie!" we heard ned's despairing cry, and:

"ha, it comes, it has begun; it finishes!" de grandin whispered gratingly.

the girl had sunk down to the grass as though she swooned; one arm had fallen limply from ned's shoulder, but the other still was clasped about his neck as we raced toward them. "adieu, mon amoureux; adieu pour ce monde, adieu pour l'autre; adieu pour l'éternité!" we heard her sob. when we reached him, ned knelt empty-armed before the tomb. of julie there was neither sign nor trace.

"so, assist him, if you will, my friend," de grandin bade, motioning me to take ned's elbow. "help him to the gate. i follow quickly, but first i have a task to do."

as i led ned, staggering like a drunken man, toward the cemetery exit, i heard the clang of metal striking metal at the tomb behind us.