Mad with love and longing they plunged themselves for an instant into a sort of ecstasy. Then she asked:
“What is it, Patrice? You seem distraught again.”
He gave a hoarse cry:
“Look! . . . Look . . .”
This time he was certain of what he had seen. The ladder was going up. The ten minutes were over.
He rushed forward and caught hold of one of the rungs. The ladder no longer moved.
He did not know exactly what he intended to do. The ladder afforded Coralie’s only chance of safety. Could he abandon that hope and resign himself to the inevitable?
One or two minutes passed. The ladder must have been hooked fast again, for Patrice felt a firm resistance up above.
Coralie was entreating him:
“Patrice,” she asked, “Patrice, what are you hoping for?”