“It would have happened just the same, some day or another,” he replied with conviction.
They still gazed at each other, seeking to read each other's inmost thoughts.
“I do not believe that I shall recover,” he said at last. “I suffer too much.”
“Do you suffer very much?” she murmured.
“Oh, yes!”
Bending a little lower, she brushed his forehead, then his eyes, then his cheeks with slow kisses, light, delicate as her care for him. She barely touched him with her lips, with that soft little breath that children give when they kiss. This lasted a long time, a very long time. He let that sweet rain of caresses fall on him, and they seemed to soothe and refresh him, for his drawn face twitched less than before.
“Any!” he said finally.
She ceased her kissing to listen to him.
“What, my friend?”
“You must make me a promise.”