"Why did I come here?" she muttered. "It would have been so simple to wait! The two of us would have saved you to a certainty."
One idea flashed through the confusion of her mind: had she not sought to hasten Stéphane's release because of what she knew of this man's love for her? And was it not an unworthy curiosity that had prompted her to make the attempt? A horrible idea, which she at once rejected, saying:
"No, I had to come. It is fate which is persecuting us."
"Don't believe it," said Stéphane. "Everything will come right."
"Too late!" said she, shaking her head.
"Why? How do we know that François has not left his cell? You yourself thought so just now . . . ."
She did not reply. Her face became drawn and very pale. By virtue of her sufferings she had acquired a kind of intuition of the evil that threatened her. This evil now surrounded her on every hand. A second series of ordeals was before her, more terrible than the first.
"There's death all about us," she said.
He tried to smile:
"You are talking like the people of Sarek. You have the same fears . . ."