s a few hours with them.

THE STRANGER.

Why must I go with you? Go alone; I will wait till I am called....
They have never seen me.... I am only a passer-by; I am a stranger....

THE OLD MAN.

It is better not to be alone. A sorrow that one does not bring alone
is not so unmixed nor so heavy.... I was thinking of that as we were
coming here.... If I go in alone, I shall have to be speaking from the
first minute; in a few words they will know everything, and I shall
have nothing more to say; and I am afraid of the silence following the
last words that announce a woe.... It is then the heart is rent.... If
we go in together, I shall tell them, for example, after going a long
way about, "She was found so.... She was floating in the river, and
her hands were clasped."...

THE STRANGER.

Her hands were not clasped; her arms were hanging down along her body.

THE OLD MAN.

You see, one speaks in spite of oneself.... And the sorrow is lost in
the details;... but otherwise, if I go in alone, at the first words,
knowing them as I do, it would be dreadful, and God knows what might
happen.... But if we speak in turn, they will listen to us and not
think to look the ill news in the face.... Do not forget the mother
will be there, and that her life hangs by a thread.... It is good that
the first wave break on some unnecessary words.... There should be a
little talking around the unhappy, and they should have people about
them.... The most indifferent bear unwittingly a part of the grief....
So, without noise or effort, it divides, like air or light....

THE STRANGER.

Your clothes are wet through; they are dripping on the flagstones.

THE OLD MAN.

It is only the bottom of my cloak that dipped in the water.--You seem
to be cold. Your chest is covered with earth.... I did not notice it
on the road on account of the darkness....

THE STRANGER.

I went into the water up to my waist.

THE OLD MAN.

Was it long after you found her when I came?

THE STRANGER.

A few minutes, barely. I was going toward the village; it was already
late, and the bank was getting dark. I was walking with my eyes
fixed on the river because it was lighter than the road, when I saw
something strange a step or two from a clump of reeds.... I drew near
and made out her hair, which had risen almost in a circle above her
head, and whirled round, so, in the current.

[_In the room, the two young girls turn their heads toward the
window._]