After some time, Christophe stopped weeping and asked:
"How?… How?…"
Rosa understood.
"She fell ill of influenza on the evening you left. And she was taken suddenly…."
He groaned.
"Dear God!… Why did you not write to me?"
She said:
"I did write. I did not know your address: you did not give us any. I went and asked at the theater. Nobody knew it."
He knew how timid she was, and how much it must have cost her. He asked:
"Did she … did she tell you to do that?"