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 turned and ran in between two of the fluted columns。 〃Raul；〃 she greeted him。 〃Did you think I'd never…〃
It was empty。
Gone！ He'd given her up； left without waiting… No； he couldn't have； the gateman had said he'd just seen him。 And if he'd tried to leave after that； the gateman would have told him that she had arrived herself in the meanwhile； and he would have e back looking for her。
She stood there for a moment； uncertainly； in the clear floor space ringed by three semicircular backless benches。 He'd be back in a minute。 He must have gone just as far as the entrance； to look for her one last time； and the gateman would surely tell him。 They must have missed one another in some way； maybe while she was behind tile hedge in her family's plot； he'd passed by unheard outside。 Without noticing her in there； all black against the shadows。 Or taken some short cut to the gate that didn't bring him by there at all。 She'd better wait here； where he could find her； or they might miss one another a second time； never get together at all。
Just tonight that had to happen； when the time was so short anyway！ She sat down forlornly on one of the three benches。 Presently； even in the murky light that filled the place； she made out something on the floor。 A half…smoked cigarette lying at her feet。 Another。 A half dozen； strewn all over。 She picked the nearest one up gingerly between two fingers； held it directly under her eyes in the obscurity。 Part of the trade name still hadn't been consumed。 〃Exquisito。〃 Those were his； she knew them。 She smiled passionately。 Poor boy； she could see him now； pacing back and forth； fretting at the long delay。
She continued to hold it for a while； looking at it。 It was a part of him。 It was the most she could have of him for a moment or two； until he got back here himself。
She whispered to it。 〃Little cigarette； does he love me？ Did he miss me； because I wasn't here？ Tell me； how did he act？ Did he whisper my name when he' held you in his mouth？ You should know； you were very close to him。〃 She touched it caressingly with the tip of one finger。 She was very young yet。
It was taking him long to e back from the gate。 He wouldn't fail to e back； though； the gateman would surely tell him he'd seen her。 It would be foolish not to wait； now that she was here。 This was the only place where they could be unseen； alone together for a moment or two。 It was different when she'd brought Rosita。 Rosita was one's own age； understood； even aided and abetted one。 With Rosita they could have taken a lingering farewell of one another； even out in full sight at the main gate。 She would have waited tactfully out of earshot； or walked ahead of them； leaving them to follow to the carriage with arms linked； heads inclined together'。 But with Marta along！ She'd better stay where she was。 He'd show up any minute。
How strange it was。 You met someone； and suddenly the whole world became different。 She remembered the first time they'd met。 It wasn't so long ago； just a few Sundays ago； but already she cou