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 couldn't recall what life had been like before that time； before there'd been a 〃him。〃 It was on a Sunday afternoon； at the cine。 Her mother bad had one of her spells； and Marta was too strict to go to a cine on Sunday； so Rosita had gone with her。 You had reserved seats at a cine on Sunday afternoons； you rented them by the season and you occupied the same ones every time you went； so he must have known her by sight； watched her each time the lights went up at intermission； for a long time before。 Well； she had noticed him herself； but you couldn't stare of course。 You could only let eyes meet eyes for a passing instant。
Then when they came out that afternoon； they found that a terrific downpour was drenching the streets。 They huddled there helplessly under the sidewalk canopy along with everyone else； unable to move； while the theater doorman blew his whistle up and down the street…that querulous sound just then； chiming in upon her thoughts from somewhere in the distance； reminded her of that day； brought it before her more vividly than ever…calling up carriages and cabs and anything on wheels to the rescue。 But everyone else kept getting them； and the two of them； she and Rosita； would have stood there stranded for there was no telling how long； if he suddenly hadn't appeared at their side and forced a passage for them； and arbitrarily mandeered the latest one standing at the curb。
Suddenly she was upright； with a sort of shock of delayed timing coursing through her。 That had been the gateman's whistle that had blended in so patly with the stream of her thoughts； back there before！
She ran out between the columns； stood poised for an instant on the two low steps that formed the structure's flooring； listening with frightened intensity。 It came again； then； piping； sounding miles and hopeless miles away across the darkness。 Farther away than she could ever hope to reach in time。 The second and the last warning； and after that…they just locked up without waiting any longer。 He must have missed her in some way； the gateman； just as she and Raul had missed one another。 Because obviously they would have to do more than just blow a whistle at the gate； in a place of this size。 Perhaps on his last tour of warning around the grounds he had failed to e near this pergola； never realizing there was anyone sheltered in it。 And she； in her day dreaming； had failed to note the distant flicker of his lamp…if be used one…or grasp its significance。 Or perhaps he had mistaken someone else who had passed him on her way out； garbed in mourning as she was； for herself； and not bothered to e in looking for her at all。 He was nearsighted； after all。
All this in a single； horrified pause on the steps； quicker even than her fluttering garments could settle about her into motionlessness。 And to add to her dismay； she realized only now that it had grown pletely dark while she was sitting in there waiting。 Even the afterglow of the sun was gone now。 Only a slight greenish blackness； like oxidized metal； above the trees in the west； showed where it had been。 The rest was dark； dark； dark； night was in possession and had caught her in its trap。
She was running along the winding graveled path now。 She thought she'd never run so fast in her life before。 A spray of gravel flew up； like sea foam； at the tiny prows of her plunging feet。 Through the tunnel of trees。 Down into the declivity of the meadow of the dead。 Up again on the other side。 Past the box hedge behind which her father and the great…aunts lay。 A sob of helpless appeal winged back toward it as she darted by： 〃Papacito！〃 The whimper of a frightened thing； tossed over her shoulder as she fled headlong past the place。 To someone who once could have protected her…but couldn't now any more。
The trees were invisible against the black sky。 But under them； and far too visible； the white of the monuments and the markers made blurred gray ghost shapes here and there。 An angel poised on one toe threatened to spring out at her from ambush； seize her about the neck with both arms tightly entwined； bring her down。 She screamed； and shied aside； and nearly fell； then went floundering on again。
A wind seemed to e sighing up out of the earth around her； damp and moldy with the aroma of long…buried things。 It wasn't just static； it seemed to pursue her； threading through the trees； winding down the path after her； moaning； trying to claim her for its own。 The pathway under her was just a gray ribbon； an indistinct tape； stretched across the dark。 It never seemed to end； it never would end。
This was panic； and she knew it； and she knew it must be conquered or she would never reach the gate alive。 Even as she tottered on； chest exploding and collapsing at each in… and exhalation； she fought to regain her self…control。 It's all right； Conchita； nothing will happen； it's all right； don't be a fool。 In just a moment more you'll reach that landmark of the urn； and then you turn left…remember？…and after that just the one broad central avenue takes you to the gate； nothing to it。 Call out now； from here…they'll hear you； they'll wait； they'll hold it open。 Call out so they'll know； you should have already； from the moment you first heard the whistle。
She didn't think she'd have breath enough left； but she managed somehow。 Shrilly； falteringly； jerky with the vibration of her continued running。 〃Gateman！ Gateman； wait！ I'm still in here！ Don't close yet！ Wait until I get there。〃
Then she couldn't any more； there wasn't enough strength of lung left。 She was wavering from side to side as it was； no longer able to keep。 to a straight course。 And the treacherous gravel； so easy to tread upon when you were at rest； seemed to roll and sidle under her feet； unbalancing her。
The urn！ Oh； saints be praised； the urn at last！ Rearing there before her； higher than her head； seeming to swim against the darkness without sup。 port； until the lesser pallor of its pediment had e into focus under it。
To the left now； she warned herself harassedly； to the left； be careful… She couldn't even tell for a moment which it was。 The heart。 The heart was always on the left。 She put her hand to it； and its pounding was almost a physical hurt； like hammer blows against the hollow of the hand。 She let it guide her； swerved around toward that side； and the urn was whisked from sight behind her； like something worked on invisible strings。
The broad； paved alley that led straight to the gate lay before her now； and the worst was over。 Its firm surface was easier to run on than the shifting gravel； but she couldn't gain much added advantage； she was already too exhausted。 She tottered waveringly on； she daren't falter now。 She tried to call out again； and found she couldn't。 A muted； strangled sound； that scarcely outdistanced her herself； was all that she could utter。 It seemed to tear at her suffocating throat。 〃Leave the gates open； wait for me！〃
Straight and broad the avenue stretched before her； its side boundary lines drawing to a shadowy junction in the darkness ahead that kept eluding her； never came any closer。 Behind her； that same malignant wind that smelled of the clamminess of tombs and the stench of rotted coffins seemed to have turned at the urn just as she had； seemed to be keeping up its insatiable； humming pursuit； even down this straightaway。 It was like running down a track of perpetual motion； whose reverse direction ate up all the gain you made； kept you standing still at a fixed point after all； though limbs and heart and lungs wore themselves out。
A bench went slowly past on one side。 Then； after a while； another went slowly past on the other。 How she wanted to topple down on one of them and just lie there half senseless…but she daren't。 It was so long ago that the whistle blasts had sounded； would they really have heard her cries？ Would they still be waiting； keeping them open？ Then why didn't they e forward； even a little part of the way； why didn't she see the glimmer of