“Don’t say that, Mona.”
“But if ... if it’s inevitable that you should go, if there is nothing else for it, can’t we ... can’t we go together?”
“Together?” He is looking searchingly into her shining face. “Do you mean ...?”
She takes his hand. It is trembling. Her own is trembling also.
“Oskar, do you remember the fight of the bulls on the cliff-head?”
“When the old ones wouldn’t let the young one live, and he had to....”
She bows her head. He is breathing rapidly. She lifts her eyes and looks at him. They are silent for a moment, then he says:
“My God, Mona! Do you mean that?... Really mean it?”
“Yes.”
And then she tells him everything—all her great, divine, delirious project.