What! He is dead?
I say he is not--he is not! Or if he is, he shall rise again.

He shall come back.

See! He is looking at me! How dare you say he is dead ?" The wild anguish of her voice reached him, pierced him, rousing him as no other power on earth could have roused him.

Out of that deathly inertia he drew himself, inch by inch, as out of some clinging swamp.
His hand found strength to tighten upon hers.

He opened his eyes, leaden-lidded as they were, and saw her face all white and drawn, gazing into his own with such an agony of love, such a consuming fire of worship, that it seemed as if his whole being were drawn by it, warmed, comforted, revived.
She hung above him, fierce in her devotion, driving back the destroyer by the sheer burning intensity of her love.