Chris looked up, caught sight of her, and uttered a cry.
“Claire! Claire!” he called, in a voice hoarse and unlike his own.
She did not move, did not seem to hear him.
Then Bram called to her.
“Come. He wants you to come.”
At the sound of Bram’s voice she looked up suddenly, shivered, and came slowly nearer.
“Look out! Take care! Come here between the lines!” said Bram.
She obeyed his directions mechanically, stumbling as she came. When she found herself beside the two men, she fell to trembling violently, but without shedding a single tear.
Chris tried to raise himself, and Bram lifted him up so that he could meet her eyes.
“Claire!” said the dying man in a whisper, “come here. Don’t look down. Look at my face—my face.”