They walk, silent and invisible, through the crowd of passersby, only seeing that today the living are outnumbering the dead. She smiles at him, a smile that would have sent him to paradise, not long ago: he smiles back, they get closer, and once again they become each other, one spirit.
They follow their preferred route, along the river, watching the past flow by, besides ancient statues, over bridges overflowing with memories. He senses her, deep inside himself, the stir of her tender and beloved soul, embracing his.
In front of Henri IV, on the Pont Neuf, they stop, not because of exhaustion, for they don’t feel physical effort, but to look again at the little island where, one night, he had possessed her, her living, beautiful body, goddess and witch, with a hunger that defied evil. She, then, had taken his blood, making him hers, enslaving this boy who had dared make her human again.
So they chose their destiny, eternal lovers in the city of light.
