"I'm not sad," he answered with an effort.
"You're telling the truth?"
"I'm telling the truth."
"Swear that you love me."
"Do you need me to swear it?" he exclaimed with such sincerity and such pain that she was convinced, perceiving the sincerity, but not the pain.
But she was still troubled; there was still a bitterness in her joy. They were near the Street of the Sea, which leads out of the dead city.
"Let us go away, let us go away," she said impatiently.
"The train for Metaponto doesn't leave till six o'clock; we've plenty of time."
"Let us go away! I don't want to stay here any longer. I beg of you, let us go."