AARM NIG on trees, on tones of tanding in the high window.

    Devin o  and quickly turns. Rovigo running up, to stop, rigid h Alais.

    quot;; to tones beside Devin. raught, he has a knife in his hand.

    quot;?quot; Devin gasps, uncompre; do you . . . ?”

    quot;My fingers! No t; And Sandre dAstibar slaps t of to Devins palm and curls  one in treet. Only ended. to the Palm.

    quot;Sandre . . .quot; Devin begins, stammering.

    quot;No  me, Devin!”

    Devin does as old. incing, gritting eet pain against grief,  do.

    Alais, not the Duke.

    But in t ts clean to grind against stone t and dazzling flased by a corona of ar about  in ter-image of its glow.

    Alais is on to quickly  his bleeding hand.

    Sandre lifts t , silent in t a word spoken, Alais ing his arm.

    From ant crasing. Silted in tall riana becomes suddenly taut. Soo far ao make out too terribly far. turn to to t.

    quot;O t; Alessans voice is a ragged w.

    too late. Far, far too late.

    On y road, Devin sees her fall.

    Not o deat graceful as s dos forand. torting blur in t, a sural  in traig t stops for a moment, seizing at this wild, impossible hope.

    t starts beating again, ever Sandre ried, it is not enougoo far, it is too oo neo triana falls. Unstayed, unciful as a moonlit fantasy of a woman wo a broken, crumpled ending behe garden wall.

    Alais bursts into desperate sobs. Sandre covers ears in ood, to the garden.

    qu