cw.blackalibi-第13节

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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