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Over and over in terror she screamed.

I rose, somewhat stronger than the night before, and then once I was certain that I had my gloves and mask in place, I crouched beside her coffin and called out to her.

At first she couldn't hear me, so loud were her frantic screams. But at last, she grew quiet in her desperation.

"You have the strength to open the coffin," I said. "I revealed this to you last night. Put your hands against the lid and move it. "

"Let me out of it, Marius," she pleaded, sobbing.

"No, you must do it for yourself. "

Softer sobs came from her, but she followed my instructions. There came a grinding noise from the marble and the lid moved to one side, and then she rose, pushing the lid out of her way, and she freed herself from the box altogether.

"Come here to me," I said.

She obeyed me, shivering with sobs, and with my gloved hands I stroked her mussed hair.

"You knew you had the strength," I said- "I showed you that even with your mind you could move it. "

"Please light the candle," she begged. "I need the light. "

I did as she asked me to do. " You must try to quiet your soul," I said. I took a long deep breath. "You're strong now, and after we hunt tonight you'll be even stronger. And as I grow ever more strong, I will give you more of my blood. "

"Forgive me for my fear," she whispered.

I had little strength myself to comfort her, but I knew that she needed what little strength I had. It was hitting me again like so many violent blows that my world was dashed, that my house was ruined, that Amadeo was stolen from me.

And then in a half swoon I saw Pandora of long ago, smiling at me, not recriminating me or tormenting me, but only speaking with me, as though we were in the garden together, at the stone table, and talking as we used to do of so many things.

But that was gone. All was gone. Amadeo was gone. My paintings were gone.

And there came again the desperation, the bitterness, the humiliation. I had not thought that such things could be done to me. I had not thought that I could be so miserable. I had believed myself so powerful, so very clever, so very beyond this abject grief.

"Come now, Bianca," I said. "We must go out, we must seek the blood. Come. " I consoled her as I consoled myself. "Here, where is your mirror? Where is your comb? Let me comb your pretty hair for you. Look at yourself in the mirror. Did Botticelli ever paint a woman more beautiful?"

She wiped at her red tears.

"Are you happy again?" I asked. "Reach into the depths of your soul. Tell yourself that you are immortal. Tell yourself that death has no power over you. A glorious thing has befallen you here in the darkness, Bianca. You have become forever young, forever beautiful. "

I wanted so to kiss her, but I couldn't do this, and so I labored to make my words so many kisses.

She nodded, and as she looked at me a lovely smile broke over her face, and for one moment she fell into a dreaminess which brought back all my memories of Botticelli's genius, and even of the man himself so safely away from all these horrors, living out his life in Florence beyond what I might ever do.

I took the comb from her bundle. I ran it through her hair. I watched her stare at the mask that was my face.

"What is it?" I asked of her gently.

"I want to see how badly¡ª"

"No you don't," I said.

She began to cry again. "But how will you ever be healed? How many nights will it take?"

All her happiness of last night was shattered.

"Come," I said. "We go to hunt. Now put on your cape, and follow me up the steps. We do as we've done before. And don't for a moment doubt your strength, and do always as I tell you. "

She would not do as I asked her. She hovered near the coffin, her elbow on the lid, her face stricken.