"Is there anything I can get you?" asks Martin softly.
"Nothing." Slowly the blue eyelids uncover hazel eyes that burn feverishly.
"But you haven't told me yet, how's Merrier?"
"A shell ... dead ... poor chap."
"And the anarchist, Lully?"
"Dead."
"And Dubois?"
"Why ask?" came the faint rustling voice peevishly. "Everybody's dead. You're dead, aren't you?"
"No, I'm alive, and you. A little courage.... We must be cheerful."
"It's not for long. To-morrow, the next day...." The blue eyelids slip back over the crazy burning eyes and the face takes on again the waxen look of death.