‘He is dead.’
‘And Kortes?’
‘They are both gone. They fell together into the pool and must be dead; there’s no sound from it.’
A frightened sob was her answer; she put her hand up to her eyes.
‘Ah, dear Kortes!’ she whispered, and I heard her sob gently again.
‘He was a brave man,’ said I. ‘God rest his soul!’
‘He loved me,’ she said simply, between her sobs. ‘He—he and his sister were the only friends I had.’
‘You have other friends,’ said I, and my voice was well nigh as low as hers.
‘You are very good to me, my lord,’ she said, and she conquered her sobs and lay still, her head on my arm, her hair enveloping my hand in its silken masses.
‘We must go on,’ said I. ‘We mustn’t stay here. Our only chance is to go on.’