She hesitated a few moments, wavering between curiosity and fear, and then replied: "No. Let's see what it is."
They advanced along the parapet as far as the end of the walk.
Unconsciously, Hippolyte accelerated her pace towards the small crowd that had gathered.
On this March afternoon the Pincio was almost deserted. Occasional sounds died away in the gray and heavy atmosphere.
"That's what it is," said George. "Someone has killed himself."
They stopped close to the crowd. All the spectators had their gaze intently fixed upon the pavement below. Most of them were workmen without occupation. Their faces, each different, expressed neither compassion nor sorrow, and the immobility of the gaze imparted a sort of bestial dulness to their eyes.
A young lad came up, eager to see; but scarcely had he ensconced himself in a position satisfactory to himself than he was hailed by one of the bystanders, in an indefinable tone of jubilation and pleasantry, as if delighted that no new arrival could enjoy the spectacle. "You're too late," he cried; "they've taken him away."
"Where to?"
"To the Santa Maria del Popolo."
"Dead?"