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,

there's just one other

test that I must make.

What are you going

to do with that?

We've seen

that this liquid

can preserve

the illusion of life.

Now let us see

if it can restore it.

Restore life?

Yes.

You're not serious.

It's only

an experiment, Alex.

Are you too old

for curiosity?

Do you see?

It's alive again.

A fragrance as sweet

as the day

Sylvia gave it to me.

Do you realize

what that means?

No.

I'm not sure

that I want to know

what it means.

This is the work

of the devil.

The devil?

He wouldn't have anything

to do with such happiness.

What are you

talking about?

Alex,

suppose I were

to drink

some of this liquid

and become young again.

Carl, you're out

of your mind.

Don't you see, Alex?

You could drink some, too,

and we'd have another life

of such friendship.

I'd hardly call that

the work of the devil.

Do you think

it's a possibility?

Well, I,

I'll be the first to try.

Oh, no.

What if it should turn out

to be some sort of poison?

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