“Say, rather, that I am suffering like a wretch.”
“But come out on my balcony. A name rose to my lips just now which I dared not utter; for if you had said 'Dead' as you did of Sophie Astier, I should have fired a bullet into my brain, this very day.”
We had gone out on the wide balcony from whence we could see two gulfs, one to the right and the other to the left, enclosed by high gray mountains. It was just twilight and the reflection of the sunset still lingered in the sky.
He continued:
“Is Jeanne de Limours still alive?”
His eyes were fastened on mine and were full of a trembling anxiety. I smiled.
“Parbleu—she is prettier than ever.”
“Do you know her?”
“Yes.”
He hesitated and then said: