Her hands were not clasped; her arms were hanging down along her body.
THE OLD MAN.
You see, one speaks in spite of oneself…. And the sorrow is lost in the details;… but otherwise, if I go in alone, at the first words, knowing them as I do, it would be dreadful, and God knows what might happen…. But if we speak in turn, they will listen to us and not think to look the ill news in the face…. Do not forget the mother will be there, and that her life hangs by a thread…. It is good that the first wave break on some unnecessary words…. There should be a little talking around the unhappy, and they should have people about them…. The most indifferent bear unwittingly a part of the grief…. So, without noise or effort, it divides, like air or light….
THE STRANGER.
Your clothes are wet through; they are dripping on the flagstones.
THE OLD MAN.
It is only the bottom of my cloak that dipped in the water.—You seem to be cold. Your chest is covered with earth…. I did not notice it on the road on account of the darkness….
THE STRANGER.
I went into the water up to my waist.