Chapter 33
It was as if she had said: "Good morning!" in the calmest of
voices. There was no answer in him, neither word nor expression,
and out of ten sharp-eyed men, nine would have passed him by
without noting the difference; but the girl knew him as the monk
knows his prayers or the Arab his horse, and a solemn, deep despair
came over her. She felt like the drowning, when the water closes
over their heads for the last time.
He puffed twice again at the cigarette and then flicked the butt
into the fire. When he spoke it was only to say: "Did she stay
long?"
But his eyes avoided her. She moved a little so as to read his
face, but when he turned again and answered her stare she winced.
"Not very long, Pierre."
"Ah," he said. "I see! It was because she didn't dream that this
