"Do you believe in it so much—really—Pierre?"
Each time there was a little lowering of her voice, a little pause and caress in the tone as she uttered his name, and nothing in all his life had stirred Red Pierre so deeply with happiness and sorrow.
"Do you believe, Pierre?" she repeated.
He looked up and saw the shuddering mass of the landslide creeping upon them inch by inch. In another moment it would loose itself with a rush and cover them.
"I believe," he said.
"If you should live, and I should die—"
"I would throw the cross away."
"No, you would keep it; and every time it touched cold against your breast you would think of me, Pierre, would you not?"
"When you reach out to me like that, you sort of take my heart between your hands."
"And when you look at me like that I feel grown-up and sad and happy both together. But, listen, Pierre, I know why I cannot die now. God means us to be so happy together, doesn't He? Because after we've been together on such a night, how can we ever be apart again?"