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THE KING IN YELLOW.
moment the candle flared in his hand; then his eyes met two other eyes, wide open, smiling, and the candle flame flashed over hair heavy as gold.
She was pale, but not as white as he; her eyes were untroubled as a child’s; but he stared, trembling from head to foot while the candle flickered in his hand.
At last he whispered: “Sylvia, it is I.”
Again he said, “It is I.”
Then, knowing that she was dead, he kissed her on the mouth. And through the long watches of the night, the cat purred on his knee, tightening and relaxing her padded claws, until the sky paled above the Street of the Four Winds.
