“Komazawa!” she cried. “It is you!”
He did not touch her outstretched hands, and she shrank back as if struck.
“You, too!” she said, and her hand sought her head bewilderedly.
“I, too?” he repeated, stupidly.
“Yes,” she cried. “I understand why you are here, why you do not speak to me and embrace me as of old. Ah, it is all very plain.”
“What is very plain?” he asked, still keeping his distance from her.
“Why you are here. They have sent you to find me, to give me over to those strangers. It is cruel, cruel!” she cried, covering her face with her hands.
“It is not true!” he cried, going to her and taking her hands from her face and holding them closely in his own.
She did not seek to release them, but permitted them to remain passively in his, as she looked up into his face through her tears.
“It is not true,” he repeated, softly.