"What do you mean to do with that parcel?" he asked in a hollow voice.
"Keep them securely for the present."
"And afterward?"
"I know not."
"Miriam, you evade my questions. Will you promise me one thing?"
"What is that?"
"Promise me to do nothing with those letters until you have further evidence."
"I promise you that."
Then Paul took up a candle and left the room, as if to go to his sleeping apartment; but on reaching the hall, he threw down and extinguished the light and rushed as if for breath out into the open air.
The night was keen and frosty, the cold, slaty sky was thickly studded with sparkling stars, the snow was crusted over—it was a fine, fresh, clear, wintry night; at another time it would have invigorated and inspired him; now the air seemed stifling, the scene hateful.