"You feel better, don't you?" asked Hippolyte, leaning toward him, and moving her chair a little to get a little closer to him.
"Yes; I feel bettor now."
He drank again.
"Look!" she cried. "Look at Ortona in holiday attire!"
Both looked towards the distant city, crowned with fire, on the hill that stretched along by the shadowy sea. Groups of fire balloons, like constellations of flame, were rising slowly in the still air; they seemed to multiply ceaselessly; they peopled all that part of the sky.
"My sister is at Ortona now. She's staying with the Vallereggia, relatives of ours."
"Has she written to you?"
"Yes."
"How happy I should be to see her! She resembles you, doesn't she? Christine is your favorite."
For a few seconds she remained pensive. Then she went on: