"Look," I urged her joyfully. "It's burning! That's the end. Do you
see?"
"Yes, I see," she answered slowly. "Some fiend-ridden artist--his evil
genius brought it to life."
"The inscription is the literal truth, then?" I supplied.
"Truth no more." She bent to watch the burning. "As the painted figures
were destroyed, their incarnations faded."
We said nothing further, but sat down together and gazed as the flames
ate the last thread of fabric, the last splinter of wood. Finally we
looked up again and smiled at each other.
All at once I knew that I loved her.