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She moved decorously enough until she had gained the terrace outside and the street beyond that。 Then； because the cemetery entrance was some considerable distance down； not directly opposite； and because the sun was already expiring in a pool of blood in the western sky； and her precious store of stolen minutes was draining away through her fingers like sand； she began to hasten。 Unnoticeably at first。 In a moment more she was presenting the rather grotesque； not to say scandalous； spectacle of black…garbed mourner； flowers bobbing up and down in arms； veil ends and skirts streaming out behind her； rushing along full tilt toward a burial…ground entrance； as though the dead couldn't wait； as though she couldn't get in fast enough to offer them her homage。 One or two heads turned to look incredulously after her as she whisked by。
She was out of breath as she rounded the ornamental entrance archway； black…silk…encased legs trip…hammering under her so fast they almost blurred。 〃I don't want you to have anything undignified to have to look back on later。〃 Tell that to love！
Her sense of propriety returned to her just in time； she forced herself to slow to a more sedate though still rather rapid walk； as she passed between the ponderous； bronze gate flaps； outstretched like a pair of wings waiting to receive and fold upon her。 The gift of some wealthy private donor； they were expensively worked in basrelief。 On one was inscribed： That which is so universal as death must be a blessing。 And on the opposite one： And none may escape its benediction。
She passed through them without a glance。 The living have no time to look at death； they cannot see it even if they try。
A short distance within and beyond them was a little lodge； scarcely more than a stone sentry box； used by the gatekeeper during hours of admission。 He was standing in the narrow doorway of it； looking out； as she Went by。 He was a kindly； monplace…looking old man； obviously nearsighted as she could tell by the way he squinted at her in peering uncertainty。
She stopped short； mbved a step or two over toward him。 〃Has a young man e in here within the past half…hour or so； have you noticed？ Dark…haired and thin and； and by himself？〃
〃Sort of a good…looking young fellow？〃 he suggested。
〃Oh； handsome！〃 she agreed fervently； casting a rapturous upward look at the sky。
The old man smiled a little with tolerant understanding。 〃Yes； nina； yes； I have seen someone like that。 Three times within the past ten minutes he's been out here to the entrance； looking for someone； getting more restless all the time； asking me if I'd seen…someone very beautiful； in black with jet…black hair； bringing a servant girl with her。〃
She dropped her eyes； quickly raised them again。
〃He's still in there； though？ He didn't leave？〃 she said relievedly。
〃He's still in there as far as I know。 I don't remember seeing hini leave。 Unless he left while I was making my last tour of inspection。〃
〃No；〃 she assured him； with a sort of charming inner conviction； 〃he didn't； he's still in there。 Thank you。〃
She turned and resumed her way down the long broad central avenue that led farther in before it began to unravel into numberless； winding； white…graveled paths； all looking pretty much alike and all already taking on a bluish cast as they filled up with the silt of night shadow。
〃Don't stay in too long； seсorita；〃 the gatekeeper called after her in kindly warning。 〃When you hear my whistle blow that means we're closing。 You only have a minute or two left。〃
She only half heard him。 An invisible current that he couldn't see had swept her up； was pulling her irresistibly forward。 Whistles and gates and quotas of minutes couldn't weaken or stop it or interfere。 This was the time for love； treasured； hoarded； waited for； ever since the time before。
She walked rapidly down the somber avenue； through an eerie landscape fast dimming in the twilight。 Eerie because it was neither natural nor human； it was that of the other world。 There was a classical severity to it； a cold melancholy； that nature lacks。 These cypresses； poplars； weeping willows； artfully disposed here and there； singly and in copses； they were rooted where dead human beings lay。 They touched death； they sheltered it； they even lived and were nourished upon it。 And scattered all about under them； through every opening in their low…hanging branches； in every space between their trunks； down every vista and at every turn； was a silent； soulless population； gleaming white in the wavering shadows。 A population that seemed to be waiting some necromantic signal in the depths of oning night to e to swarming； malignant life。 A population of angels； phoenixes； griffins。 The very marble benches here and there along the paths； they seemed to be put there not for the living to rest upon during the course of their visits； but for the use of unguessed shrouded forms flitting along these thoroughfares and lanes in silent passage late at night。
And over it all hung a violet pall of expiring light； the crepusculo； whose very name was a little death in itself。 The death of day。
Through this land of the dead； love made its way； nineteen years old； blood warm； eyes bright； breath quick； heart pulsing。 She was no longer running。 She was in now； that was the main thing。 It was just a matter of a minute or two more； and it wouldn't have been respectful in such a place。 But she moved along at an eager little walk； with a double step of added impetus every three or four paces； that was not quite a trot but threatened to be one。
She reached a little circular axis that was a landmark to her。 In its center stood an alabaster urn on a slender graceful pediment that she always used to guide herself by。 Here four paths Spoked out。 The one she had been following continued on beyond； into reaches of the cemetery that were unknown to her。 Then there was a lateral one that crossed it at this point； making two more。 She knew by experience you turned left at this place to reach her family's burial plot。 Then ing back； of course； you just did the opposite； turned right； to get back on the main avenue leading to the entrance gate。
It was just a little further on now。 She followed this lesser； winding； graveled path； with its halfremembered particulars of surrounding。 First it led through a depressed open treeless patch； a Sort of meadow of the dead。 The depths of this were inked in with blue already。 Then it climbed and wound its way through a thick grove of trees； almost like a tunnel； and just past that was her destination。 She hadn't had a chance to notice these things much on her previous visits。 Going； Rosita was always chattering away to her。 And ing back； more lingeringly； there was an arm about her waist and a low voice murmuring in her ear。 This was the first time she'd made her way through here alone。
She arrived finally。 She reached the short but head…high length of box hedge that ran along the path for a few feet； marking her family's plot。 She turned in through a gap in it； made her way to the newest of the several monuments and markers it contained； a pylon of bone white； with a bronze wreath clamped to it circling a simple inscription：
DON RAFAEL CONTRERAS Y GALB0
PRAY FOR HIS SOUL
It was at the far end of the enclosure。 The rest were just great…aunts and people she had never known。 He wouldn't be waiting for her in here； of course。 That would have been bad taste。 There was a place they had… But first； the respect due one's dead。 She sank down on one knee beside the mound； firmly put all thoughts of that someone else out of her mind for the time being； lowered her head； murmuring a short prayer that was a plea for forgiveness。 〃Father； forgive me for fooling Mother like this。 We didn't mean to； but we're both going to be old so long。 I'll have him e to the house and meet her this week； I promise。〃
She rose at last； spent several more minutes arranging the flowers she had brought with her about the base of the pylon； moving from side to side to shift them until the effect suited her。 Then she dipped her knees； crossed herself； and left the enclosure； with a lingering backward glance。 The dead had received their due； and now for the living。
It wasn't very far away； just a little further over to the left along the same path。 It was a little marble pergola； a circular roof supported by slim columns； without any walls。 It didn't belong to anyone； that is to say； it was a 〃public〃 structure put up by the cemetery itself； like the benches and the landmark urn farther back。 That was where they always met。 He'd be waiting for her in there right now。 She'd probably see the ember of his impatient cigarette moving around restlessly inside it like a red firefly as she came hurrying up。 It was a shame； her getting here late like this would give them hardly any time together at all。
It already looked indistinct in the dusk as she sighted it； a misty blue shape peering through the haze； instead of clear white any more。 But what did she care what it looked like； it was who was in it that counted。 She made a little crowing sound of mischievous delight as she