"What color?"
"Blond."
The precipice formed by the high walls lent a strange resonance to the voices.
"Let us go, George!" pleaded Hippolyte.
Disturbed and pale, she shook her lover's arm, as he leaned against the parapet near the group, fascinated by the horror of the scene.
They silently left the tragic spot. Both were preoccupied with painful thoughts of this death, and sadness was visible on their features.
"Happy are the dead!" exclaimed George at last. "They have no more doubts."
"That's true," replied his companion.
The weary tones in which both spoke seemed to indicate boundless discouragement.
She bent her head and added, with a bitterness mixed with regret: "Poor love!"