Their hands were still clasped. Stéphane was weeping silent tears.
Presently she moaned:
"There's nothing to be done, is there?"
"Nothing," he replied.
"Still, there is room beyond that wooden floor. The cave is round. We might . . ."
"The space is too small. If we tried to stand between the sides of the square and the wall, we should be crushed to death. That has all been planned. I have often thought about it."
"Then . . . ?"
"We must wait."
"For what? For whom?"
"For François."