They had but one, single desire: to leave the room they were in, and where they were choking.

They experienced a real discomfort in being shut up together, and in breathing the same atmosphere.

They would have liked someone to be there to interrupt their privacy, to drag them from the cruel embarrassment in which they found themselves, sitting one before the other without opening their lips, and unable to resuscitate their love.

Their long silences tortured them, silence loaded with bitter and despairing complaints, with mute reproaches, which they distinctly heard in the tranquil air.
Day came at last, a dirty, whitish dawn, bringing penetrating cold with it.

When the room had filled with dim light, Laurent, who was shivering, felt calmer.