"How much do you love me?"
"So much! So much!"
"But how much?"
"Absolutely."
"And—how long will you love me, Laura?"
"Always."
Now Anna was shivering with cold. She was not mad. She was not dreaming. Her teeth chattered. It seemed as if she had been standing there for a century. She dreaded being discovered, as if she were guilty of a crime. But she could not move, she could not go away. It was too much, too much; she could not endure it! She covered her mouth with her fan, to suffocate her voice, to keep from crying out, and cursing God and love. Laura began to speak.
"Do you love me?" she asked.
"Yes, I love you."