“You have come too late,” he said.
CHAPTER XLIV
THE SECOND CHRISTMAS
“Mon fiancé dort sous la noire terre,
Dans la froide tombe il rêve de nous,
Laissez-moi pleurer, ma peine est amère,
Laissez-moi gémir et veiller, ma mère!
Les pleurs me sont doux.”
—Leconte de Lisle, Christine.
The two women in their black draperies came up the wide staircase together in silence, but at the top the elder paused and put her hand on the other’s arm.
“Dear child, I think you are too tired to read to me this evening.”