The Tomb of Ligeia Page #3

- A stroll?

A walk. What difference does it make? Come on.

- What was she, Kenrick?

- "She", ma'am?

go Po oo o o oo oo,

oo o q o

So, what was she?

- Her hair was black, I believe.

- Do you? Excellent.

lack on one of her heads

and green on the other, perhaps?

- Only one head, madam.

- How disappointing.

ut her eyes, were they gold or silver? Ow

- I don't remember.

- ut she did have eyes, I take it?

(chnuckhEs) Never mind, Kenrick.

If you don't want to talk, I won't pry. Thank you.

I'm sorry, ma'am.

- Are you?

- Yes, ma'am.

Early this day, I found myself standing

once again before Ligeia's grave,

allowing me to observe

a rather singular circumstance.

The date of her death had disappeared

from Ligeia's tombstone,

oo o o o o o Roo

I don't know which confounds me more,

the defacing or the importance you place on it.

- Doesn't it seem odd?

- Yes, it does.

It seems grotesque, in fact. A malicious prank.

- Whose malicious prank?

- Good Lord, Verden, I don't know.

- What are you trying to tell me?

- Simply that it is neither a prank nor malicious.

Look at that stone, Christopher.

Consider what has been cut from the marble.

Not her name... not the inscription...

...only the date of her death.

Where's the date of her birth?

I never knew her age.

And consider, Christopher,

how carefully it has been cut.

Surely not the work of any malicious prank ster.

The ancients carved prophecies

in their stone tombs.

- This prank is also a prophecy.

- Of what? From whom?

- Verden, this is surely...

- Of return, Christopher. Of Ligeia's return.

Vooo

No No,, o o o

These words

were among the last she ever spoke to me...

"Nor lie in death forever."

(VErdErn) "Man need not kneel before the angels

nor lie in death forever,

save for the weakness of his feeble will."

Ligeia's will was as fierce as her...

as her body was frail.

Outwardly calm, even placid...

...she nevertheless pitted herself against death

with a passion words are impotent to convey.

As her body progressively wasted,

she seemed to turn to the very stones

of the abbey for renewed strength,

as if they could sustain

that burning desire for life...

...only for life, that ravaged her

as much as the fever of disease.

In a sense, Ligeia became the abbey.

She never entered or left a room,

never walked down the darkest passageway

without somehow illuminating it

like a single moving candle.

Like a blind man,

I could sense her presence, but not see her

oo o o o oc o c o

Her voice in the rustle of draperies,

the lightness of her footfall

in the fluttering of a moth's wing

against a closed window pane.

Even at the end,

she seemed to have vanquished death.

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