The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. This, then, must be the person whom he had seen spring upon the western platform at the time of the collision between the boats. A true nun. “When one is happy—I don’t like to think of them. It would give me great pleasure if you would dine with me somewhere first. “Come,” he said, “you can’t be meaning to bury yourself. I wonder if he really wants me to go home. ’ ‘What husband?’ ‘Precisely. But when all was over, a sorrowful calm succeeded, and, if not free from grief, she was tranquil.
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