The Bride

A sound echoes from behind us — a faint, polite cough. We see that a figure has appeared in the great rock’s shadow: a young man in beautiful morning dress, a smile on his face.

Quickly, the phantom descends to the ground, her face ablaze with sudden hope. “Oh! Oh, but you have come!”

“Yes, my sweet!” cries the groom. “Forgive me; I was foolishly waylaid. But now that I see that my worries matter not! Let us at last be one.”

He does not seem to notice her haggard, aged face — and indeed, as we watch, the Bride seems to grow younger before our eyes. Clasping one another and speaking silent vows, the two spectres kiss. As their phantom lips meet, there is a distant sound of bells — the faintest glimmer of petals in the air.

Then the happy couple is gone, and the ring-shaped rock is dark once more.