I joke about it." And she laughed, the faint, dreadful, mocking laugh of a damned soul.

"Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" she cried; and, burying her face in her hands, she burst into a storm of weeping.
"Poor child," said the Duke softly.

And he stared gloomily on the ground, overcome by this revelation of the tortures of the feeble in the underworld beneath the Paris he knew.
"Oh, you do pity me ...

you do understand ...

and feel," said Sonia, between her sobs.
The Duke raised his head and gazed at her with eyes full of an infinite sympathy and compassion.
"Poor little Sonia," he said gently.