"You had the courage, the pluck?" he asked, at last realizing what she had dared to do.
"Oh, it was not very difficult!" she declared. "François was so anxious! He maintained that you were both occupying old torture-chambers . . . death-chambers . . . ."
It was as though these words aroused him violently from a dream and made him suddenly see that it was madness to converse in such circumstances.
"Go away!" he cried. "François is right! Oh, if you knew the risk you are running. Please, please go!"
He was beside himself, as though convulsed by the thought of an immediate peril. She tried to calm him, but he entreated her:
"Another second may be your undoing. Don't stay here . . . . I am condemned to death and to the most terrible death. Look at the ground on which we are standing, this sort of floor . . . . But it's no use talking about it. Oh, please do go!"
"With you," she said.
"Yes, with me. But save yourself first."
She resisted and said, firmly:
"For us both to be saved, Stéphane, we must above all things remain calm. What I did just now we can do again only by calculating all our actions and controlling our excitement. Are you ready?"