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don of my arms； my fingernails bent and blackened like bits of burnt horn。 No； not my body； I cried； Oh； Mother help me； help me！ Benjamin； help me。。。
I began to fall。 Oh； there was no one who could help me now but one Being。
〃God； give me the courage；〃 I cried。 〃God if it's begun； give me the courage； God； I can't give up my reason； God； let me know where I am； God； let me understand what is happening； God； where is the church； God； where is the bread and the wine； God； where is she； God help me； help me。〃
Down and down I fell； past spires of glass； past grids of blind windows。 Past rooftops and pointed towers。 I fell through the harsh and wild wailing of the wind。 I fell through the stinging torrent of snow。 I fell and I fell。 I fell past the window where the unmistakable figure of Benjamin stood with his tiny hand on the drape； his black eyes fixed on me for one split second； his mouth open； tiny Arab angel。 I fell down and down； the skin shriveling and tightening on my legs so that I couldn't bend them； tightening on my face so that I couldn't open my mouth； and with an agonizing explosion of raw pain； I struck hard…packed snow。
My eyes were open and fire flooded them。
The sun had fully risen。
〃I shall die now。 I shall die！〃 I whispered。 〃And in this last moment of burning paralysis； when all the world is gone and there is nothing left； I hear her music！ I hear her playing the final notes of the Appassionata！ I hear her。 I hear her tumultuous song。〃
20
I DIDN'T DIE。 Not by any means。 I awoke to hear her playing； but she and her piano were very far away。 In the first few hours after twilight； when the pain was at its worst； I used the sound of her music； used the search for it； to keep myself from screaming in madness because nothing could make the pain stop。
Deeply encased in snow； I couldn't move and couldn't see； save what my mind could see if I chose to use it； and wishing to die； I used nothing。 I only listened to her playing the Appassionata； and sometimes I sang along with her in my dreams。
All the first night and the second； I listened to her； that is； when she was disposed to play。 She would stop for hours； to sleep perhaps。 I couldn't know。 Then she would begin again and I'd begin with her。
I followed her Three Movements until I knew them； as she must know them； by heart。 I knew the variations she worked into her music； I knew how no two musical phrases she played were ever the same。
I listened to Benjamin calling for me； I heard his crisp little voice； speaking very rapidly and very much in New York style； saying； 〃Angel； you've not done with us； what are we to do with him？ Angel； e back。 Angel； I'll give you cigarettes。 Angel； I have plenty of good cigarettes。 e back。 Angel； that's just a joke。 I know you can get； your own cigarettes。 But this is really vexing； you leaving this dead body； Angel。 e back。〃
There were hours when I heard nothing of either of them。 My mind hadn't the strength to reach out telepathically to them； just to see them； one through the eyes of the other。 No。 That kind of strength was gone。
I lay in mute stillness； burnt as much by all that I'd seen and felt as by any sunlight； hurt and empty inside； and dead of mind and heart； save for my love for them。 It was easy enough； wasn't it； in blackest misery to love two pretty strangers； a mad girl and a mischievous streetwise boy who cared for her？ There was no history to it； my killing her brother。 Bravo； and finished。 There was five hundred years of history to the pain of everything else。
There were hours when only the city talked to me； the great clattering； rolling； rustling city of New York； with its traffic forever clanking； even in the thickest snow； with its layers upon layers of voices and lives rising up to the plateau on which I lay； and then beyond it； vastly beyond it in towers such as the world before this time has never beheld。
I knew things but I didn't know what to make of them。 I knew that the snow covering me was growing ever deeper； and ever harder； and I didn't understand how such a thing as ice could keep away from me the rays of the sun。
Surely； I must die； I thought。 If not this ing day； then the next。 I thought of Lestat holding up the Veil。 I thought of His Face。 But the zeal had left me。 All hope had left me。
I will die； I thought。 Morning by morning； I will die。
But I didn't。
In the city far below； I heard others of my kind。 I didn't really try to hear them； and so it was not their thoughts that came to me； but now and then their words。 Lestat and David were there； Lestat and David thought that I was dead。 Lestat and David mourned for me。 But far worse horrors plagued Lestat because Dora and the world had taken the Veil； and the city was now crowded with believers。 The Cathedral could scarce control the multitudes。
Other immortals came； the young； the feeble and sometimes； most horribly； the very ancient； wanting to view this miracle； slipping into the nighttime Church among the mortal worshipers and looking with crazed eyes on the veil。
Sometimes they spoke of poor Armand or brave Armand or St。 Armand； who in his devotion to the Crucified Christ had immolated himself at this very Church door！
Sometimes they did the same。 And just before the sun was to rise again； I'd have to hear them； hear their last desperate prayers as they waited for the lethal light。 Did they fare better than I？ Did they find their refuge in the arms of God？ Or were they screaming in agony； agony such as I felt； unendurably burnt and unable to break away from it； or were they lost as I was； remnants in alleyways or on distant roofs？ No； they came and they went； whatever their fate。
How pale it all was； how far away。 I felt so sad for Lestat that he had bothered to weep for me； but I was to die here。 I was to die sooner or later。 Whatever I had seen in that moment when I'd risen into the sun didn't matter。 I was to die。 That was all there was。
Piercing the snowy night； electronic voices spoke of the miracle； that Christ's Face upon a Veil of linen had cured the sick and left its imprint on other cloths pressed to it。 Then came an argument of clergymen and skeptics； a perfect din。
I followed the sense of nothing。 I suffered。 I burned。 I couldn't open my eyes； and when I tried； my eyelashes scratched my eyes and the agony was too much to bear。 In darkness； I waited for her。
Sooner or later； without fail； there came her magnificent music； with all its new and wondrous variations； and nothing mattered to me then； not the mystery of where I was； or what I might have seen； or what it was that Lestat and David meant to do。
It was not until the seventh night perhaps that my senses were fully restored to me； and the fall horror of my state was understood。
Lestat was gone。 So was David。 The Church had been shut up。 From the murmurings of mortals I soon realized that the Veil had been taken away。
I could hear the minds of all the city； a din that was unsupportable。 I shut myself off from it； fearing the vagrant immortal who'd home in on me if he caught bu