"But I need them to fasten my hair."
"Leave your hair as it is. It pleases me that way."
She smiled. They went out into the loggia. She raised her face towards the stars and breathed the perfume of the summer night.
"You see how beautiful the night is!" said George, in a hoarse yet gentle voice.
"They are beating the flax," said Hippolyte, listening attentively to the continuous rhythm.
"Let us go down," said George. "Let us walk a little. Let us go as far as the olive-trees, yonder."
He seemed to hang on Hippolyte's lips.
"No, no. Let us remain here. You see in what a state I am!"
"What does that matter? Who will see you? We shall not meet a living soul at this hour. Come as you are. I'd go without my hat. The country is almost like a garden for us. Let us go down."
She hesitated a few seconds. But she, too, felt the need of fresh air, of getting away from this house that still seemed to resound with the echo of her horrible laughs.