far away from sorrow and pain, to a sphere where time is not, where reign the dreamless sleep and the darkness that knows no fears.
For a long while we lay like this. I knew it was long, because I heard the church clock strike several times. I heard the stroke, but did not realise that they announced the passing of precious time. Then from far away I heard Marie's voice. It came to me as if carried on the soft waves of great silence. She said, 'I think it will be like this to die.' It seemed to me that I had thought exactly the same words, and I answered—I recognised my voice, but it also came from far away—'Yes, death is like this.'
Again we lay quietly. I felt Marie's hand cling closer and closer to mine as we floated higher and higher. Then I heard again Marie's voice speak to me: 'I should like to die together—with you!' But again I thought the same words, and I answered: 'When we are tired we will die together. Will you promise to come if I call you?' For answer she pressed my hand. We did not speak again, before the grey daylight broke through the night, and awakened us to the painful truth that the hour had come when we must say good-bye…
On that night was Babylon destroyed.
R
