And for the rest, she who understood so much, who was she to judge him?
He looked at her.

By this time his sensations had lost the sting of pity and horror.

He could look without flinching.

The fire had only burnt the lower frame-work of the face, leaving the features untouched; the eyes still glowed under their scorched brows with a look half-tender, half-triumphant.
It was as if they said, "See what it was you loved so much." The little fool, tortured into wisdom, was that what she meant?
It was always hard to fathom her meanings.

Could it be that?
Yes, it must be.