“You are no longer afraid of being blind. You are ready.”
“Leon, what am I going to be?”
“We are no longer prophets ... save in our lives. Live, Fanny.”
“Leon, I could fight.... I could win her, I could save her.”
“No, Fanny ... you are going to live.”
“I ... and Edith?”
“You....”
She walked with mouth tear-brimmed and open out of her fancied words. She saw about her with relentless eyes, felt with relentless feet, this hard pavement, these hard houses, hard white sky. Out of the deep scene came now upon her, as her mouth shut, clearer and more solid than the stone city his last words:
“You, Fanny ... not Edith, you ... are to live.”