turning from the century-dead coya with an inarticulate cry of rage, dick seized orellana by the throat as if he would have strangled the poor madman, who had started work on the wrong tomb. and he, thrice accursed fool that he was, had followed the madman’s lead, made a mistake when every minute might mean maria-teresa’s life!

and now, which was it? the tomb on the right or that on the left? or neither?

loosing the old man, he controlled himself again by a superhuman effort and looked round the temple. no, there could be no mistake this time. it must be the one on the right. he looked for the angle from their hiding-place to the altar. yes, this was the one!

the pick thundered on another slab, while orellana, a raving maniac now, danced and gibbered behind him, grunting with every blow as if he himself had delivered it.

at last the stone turned.... it moved... slid into their arms... fell to the ground.

“maria-teresa! it is i, dick! for god’s sake, speak!”

again he bent oyer the rigid face of a long-forgotten coya.

dick fell to the ground as if stunned. but orellana was already at work again, setting him the example, and the young engineer was on his feet in a moment. it must be that other one on the left, then! once again he wrenched the pick from the old man’s feeble hands and hammered on the granite.... the minutes are flying... flying. and she may be dying behind that slab, struggling for breath!... the thunder of blows echoed through the hall... the stone moved... slipped... fell.... at last.... no!... another dead woman.... another, another!... not maria-teresa!

“maria cristina! my daughter! dearest, i am coming! your father is here!”

while dick staggered to the wall, staring before him with blind eyes, the old man, peering into the tomb, had recognized his child.

“maria cristina! dearest! wait, wait! only one more stone, and you will be out of your prison!”

sobbing and laughing in turn, orellana worked desperately, finding the strength of his youth anew.

then dick fell on him.

“give me that pick. you’re wasting time on a dead woman. give it to me, i say!”

there was a terrible struggle between the two, and dick, triumphant, whirled the tool over his head at another tomb, while orellana, by the last effort of his life, tore the second stone from its socket, drew the dead body of his daughter to him and covered it with kisses and tears. old madman and dead girl fell to the floor together.

orellana was dead, but he had found his daughter.

dick saw and heard nothing. another tomb open... and another dead coya of long ago.... the gods of the temple of death were ready to give up their dead, but not the living bride....

crying, calling, driving his nails into his bleeding palms; ready to offer himself up to the ferocious spirit that guarded those tombs, dick staggered, fell, and got up again, dragging behind him the pick, which he no longer knew where to use, striving to reason and understand.

there was nothing here to help him! his eyes wandered hopelessly round the circular temple, trying to find a guiding point. nothing! perhaps chance would give him what his reasoning had failed to secure.... yes, that was it... why not try here?... it might be this tomb as well as any other.... he set to work again, but heavily... oh, so heavily... and the pick weighed down his hands terribly.

... exhausted, he dropped it.... he could do no more.... and she was dying... dying... while the dead, torn from their eternal sleep, stared back at him with unseeing eyes.

how many hours had he been toiling? he did not know. the oblique rays of the sun had gradually risen on the walls, then vanished. then the light which succeeded them faded in its turn.... twilight had fallen... then darkness had come.

stretched out on the altar steps, whither he had dragged himself with his last remaining strength, he closed his eyes and waited... waited for sleep or death. what did it matter, since maria-teresa was dead?