I turned to Hugo: his eyes were fixed on the picture, and again I saw that haunted, terrified expression that had struck me when I saw him first, but it was more now. I felt suddenly, that my own emotion was somehow a reflection of his emotion, that my own despair was an echo of his despair.
‘You shall have peace . . . You shall have peace . . .’
I felt at that moment that I was seeing with his eyes and feeling with his mind. I was fascinated, horrified, paralysed; then I broke the spell:
‘No, Hugo,’ I said, and my voice sounded rough and unnatural to myself, ‘come away, come away quickly!’
I seized hold of his arm and pulled him after me, through the swinging glass doors, and down the steps.
Outside, the rain had begun to fall, a thin, drizzling rain . . . we paused here and drew breath: I felt as though I had woken up from a very ghastly dream.
I laughed, nervously, I knew, and shivered⸺
I said:
‘Those are terrible pictures—they make one remember and think⸺’
Hugo stared at me, with sombre, unseeing eyes.