Ouvre-moi ta porte
Pour l’amour de Dieu!”
The pathetic words, and the melancholy air, seemed strangely suited to his mood and to the place.
The twilight deepened.
He rose and climbed a zigzag path leading to the top of the cliff.
“Ma chandelle est morte,
Je n’ai plus de feu!”
He reached the top, and passed through an iron gate.
“Ouvre-moi ta porte,
Pour l’amour de Dieu!”