By the time I had recovered myself she had gone. Did she suppose him a possible pretender to her daughter’s hand? The girl—Dorothée, if memory served—was clearly marriageable, but he imagined most of these unhappy exiles were all but penniless. "I must go. I—I don’t understand,” the man faltered wearily. He must fight the thought continually, day in and day out. “Some day,” she answered. Finding all attempts at conversation with his companion in misfortune in vain, Wood, in order to distract his thoughts, looked up at the gigantic structure standing, like a wall of solid darkness, before him. Some day I shall come back, and I will show you on canvas the things which have come to me up here amongst the eternal silence.
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