But after a time I persuaded her to brave the stare of
the curious and stroll with me among the eucalyptus woods above. We
cut ourselves off from other human companionship and felt like two lost
souls wandering alone through mist. She conducted herself with grave and
simple dignity. . . . Once or twice she visited Anastasius in prison.
She found him humanely treated and not despondent. He thought they
had arrested him for the poisoning of the horse, and laughed at their
foolishness. As they refused to return him his dossier, he occupied
himself in reconstructing it, and wrote pages and pages of incoherence
to prove the guilt of Captain Vauvenarde. He was hopelessly mad. . . .
The bond of pain bound me very close to Lola.
"What are you going to do with your life?" I asked her one day.
"So long as I have you as a friend, it doesn't greatly matter."
"You forget," I said, "that you can't have me much longer."
"Are you going to leave me? It's not because I have dragged you through
all this dirt and horror.
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