"Let us go down," she finally consented.
At these words, George felt as if his heart had ceased to beat.
With an instinctive movement he approached the threshold of the illuminated room. He cast toward the interior a look of anguish, a look of farewell. A hurricane of recollections arose in his distracted soul.
"Shall we leave the lamp lit?" he asked, without thinking of what he was saying.
And his own voice gave him an indefinable sensation as of some distant and strange thing.
"Yes," answered Hippolyte.
They went down.
On the staircase they took each other by the hand, slowly descending step by step. George made so violent an effort to repress his anguish that the effort caused in him a strange exaltation. He considered the immensity of the nocturnal sky, and believed it to be filled by the intensity of his own life.
They perceived on the parapet of the courtyard the shadow of a man, motionless and silent. They recognized old Colas.
"You here at this hour, Colas?" said Hippolyte. "Are you not sleepy?"