Twice Told Tales (Twice-Told Tales)

Throughout the ages,

the heavens have unleashed their fury

to make man tremble

in the presence of the unknown.

And as man has witnessed the power

of nature's elements,

so have some men sought desperately

in this infinite power the secret...

of why they are born

and why they will die.

While the very ground on which they walk,

the earth that will bury them,

remains to mock their existence .

My dear Carl,

only the vicissitudes of a lifetime,

a long lifetime,

vicissitudes that we have shared almost as brothers

could have brought me out on a night such as this

to drink a toast

to your birthday.

Of course, if you had been

more considerate,

you might have been born

in better weather.

Well, perhaps,

perhaps the next time I am born, Alex

I'll,

I'll make it a day in spring when

everything else is being born also.

Then here's to both of our next birthdays,

so that we may share an eternity

of the friendship we have known.

Mmm.

Excellent port, Carl. Excellent.

Worthy of a man who has made life

give him full measure in 79 years.

Full measure?

Oh, how lonely the years

would have been without you, Alex.

Only one other person

could've driven the loneliness from my life.

But, what will be will be.

Alex?

Yes?

I wonder, my old friend,

could you do me a favor?

Yes, of course, Carl.

Should I not be here

for a rendezvous with my 80th birthday,

could you please bury this with me?

A withered rose?

Yes, well,

it's not very much to show for all those years, is it?

But to me, this rose is worth more

than all the world's treasures.

Sylvia gave it to me

almost 40 years ago.

I was to wear it on my wedding night.

Excuse me, there's something I must do.

Sylvia.

The time has come again.

Another milestone has been reached.

I drink to your infinite Patience.

Wait for me, Sylvia.

The time cannot be much longer

when I will join you there.

Oh, Carl, Carl,

if you only knew how wrong it was

never to have married because of a memory.

My dear Alex, perhaps I was capable

of loving only once.

And if fate decreed that Sylvia should die

on the eve of our wedding...

Alex, has man ever been able to control fate?

Why not?

Nothing ever stopped me

from living exactly the kind of life that I wanted.

That all depends on what one wants from life.

Alex, now, you...

You always needed to be surrounded

with laughter and gaiety, music.

Music is good for the soul.

Nothing melts a lady with more dispatch

than the sob of a violin.

Oh, Carl,

what a waste.

Many women other than Sylvia

would've loved you.

Now there would be children--

Sylvia shared everything with me.

Her face filled my dreams.

Her warmth

gave me courage.

Her memory gave me life itself.

Do you think I'd allow another woman to intrude?

But it is not right to live with a ghost.

That was close.

It was you with your talk of ghosts.

I apologize.

I promise that I won't bring such lightning again.

The rain is stopping.

I suppose you're going to blame that on me, too.

Alex, look.

That door hasn't been opened in 38 years.

Come, my friend.

Let's see what damage may have been done.

Carl, do you think we ought to go in there?

Afraid of dust and meaningless bones, Alex?

You're a doctor, you're used to these things.

As a doctor, I can tell you

you're not so far removed from dust

and meaningless bones yourself.

Light the candles, Alex, please.

Oh.

Two coffins?

The one that has fallen is Sylvia's.

The other is mine.

You wanted to take your memories

even to the grave.

Water dripping down.

The storm must've cracked the ceiling.

Come help me put the coffin back.

Sylvia!

No, Carl, it can't be.

Not after all these years.

She would be dust.

That's all that would be left.

Yes, I know.

But it is Sylvia. We both know that.

Just as beautiful.

Oh, Carl, put the lid back on the coffin

and let's get out of here.

I'm a doctor, Alex.

I have to know what preserved her body.

It's sacrilegious.

Perfect.

Perfect.

The flesh is firm, no decomposition.

But why?

It isn't the air in here.

This vault isn't a vacuum.

Please, let's--

Alex.

Yes.

Alex.

Look.

It's still wet as though water had been dripping on it.

But, of course.

It rained hard tonight,

there'd be seepage from the hill above.

No, no, no, Alex.

To cause a groove such as this,

water would've had to drip on this coffin

for a great number of years.

38 years, perhaps.

You mean, ever since Sylvia was put in here?

Yes.

The coffin is wet inside.

The water must have seeped in

through that hole, and kept it saturated.

You can't believe that just plain water

would keep Sylvia looking--

I didn't say it was just plain water.

Old age is catching up with you.

I say that we go inside and finish our wine. Go!

I thought my enthusiasm for research

had gone a long time ago.

And now,

here is a challenge that tells me

I'm still alive enough to be curious.

Impossible.

Simply impossible.

This liquid absolutely defies analysis.

It looks like water.

It tastes like water, but it isn't water.

At least, not as man knows it.

You can drink that if you like.

I need something more familiar: whiskey.

Extraordinarily high mineral content.

Sulfur, and practically no bacteria count.

Can it be that this liquid is some

sort of strong germicidal?

If so,

what could be in the earth

above the crypt to make it so?

Alex,

could this be some sort of virgin spring?

A liquid so pure that

its very fundamental structure is unknown?

If you've found anything as pure

as that in this sinful world,

you are indeed a genius.

I have known such purity only once before.

Sylvia.

It takes such a purity to make a man

forget all other women for as long as he lives.

Now, Carl, now that you know

what you don't know about that stuff,

do you mind if we get out of this unholy room?

Just, just, one moment,