"Yes--let us go."
They rose and regained the road by which they had come. Slowly and with
tearful accents Hippolyte murmured: "What a sad evening, O my love!"
And she stopped as if to recall and live over again the sorrows
scattered through the day that was about to close. Around them, now, the
Pincio was deserted, full of silence, full of violet shadows in which
the busts on their pedestals took on the appearance of funereal
monuments. Below, the city was covered with ashes. A few drops of rain
were falling.
"Where shall we go to-night? What are you going to do?" she asked.