|have mercy on me. But they let him drown mercilessly. Oh, how I loved
When she discovered traces of blood on his shirt, Lara went to visit the elders of the village. They rowed across to Wagoe with the mother and her son, taking along the old woman.
To the people of Wagoe she said, "The insecurity of your graves has exposed one of us to danger. A man here is leaving his grave every evening, coming over to us and sucking his fill of blood from this poor youth."
"We'll try to secure it properly," the people of Wagoe said.
They cut a stake made of pine. It was as tall as a man and as thick as an arm. With a hatchet they hewed the surface square; below, the tip had a point a foot long. They went to the dune where the sailors were buried. One man carried the stake, another a heavy axe. They opened Manor's grave.
One of the people of Wagoe said, "Look, he hasn't moved since the day we buried him."
"That's because he gets into the same spot each time he returns," the wise woman replied.
Another person from Wagoe said, "He almost looks better now than the day we buried him." "That's no wonder," the old woman replied, "All the more reason why Har is so pale."
Har approached and again threw himself over the body of his beloved.
"Manor, Manor," he cried, his voice quivering. "They're going to drive a stake into your heart. Manor, wake up. Open your eyes. It's me, your Har."
But Manor did not open his eyes. He lay motionless in Har's embrace, now, just as he had two weeks earlier on the straw on the beach.
Har refused to release him. They tore him away and placed the tip of the stake on Manor's chest. Har turned away, heartbroken. He threw his arms around his mother and buried his face in her shoulder.
"Mother," he cried out, "how could you do this to me?"
He heard the axe-hammer hit the stake, which groaned. One heavy blow followed another.
"There, that should do it," one of the men from Wagoe was heard to say.
Another said, "If that doesn't keep him in his place, nothing will."
They had to carry Har, who was half unconscious. "He'll bother you no longer my dear child," Lara said when they had returned home.
Grieved, he went to bed. "Now I'll never see him again," he said aloud, filled with sadness. He was tired and weak. He tossed and turned in his bed. Minutes passed so slowly they seemed like hours. Midnight came and still no sleep had passed over his eyes.
Listen. What was that? In the lilac bush ... But, no, it's