'What is your name, or, at least, what was it?'
'Call me Alice.'
'Alice! That 's an English name! Are you an Englishwoman? Did you know me in former days?'
'No.'
'Why is it then you have come to me?'
'I love you.'
'And are you content?'
'Yes; we float, we whirl together in the fresh air.'
'Alice!' I said all at once, 'you are perhaps a sinful, condemned soul?'
My companion's head bent towards me. 'I don't understand you,' she murmured.
'I adjure you in God's name . . .' I was beginning.
'What are you saying?' she put in in perplexity. 'I don't understand.'
I fancied that the arm that lay like a chilly girdle about my waist softly trembled . . . .
'Don't be afraid,' said Alice, 'don't be afraid, my dear one!' Her face turned and moved towards my face. . . . I felt on my lips a strange sensation, like the faintest prick of a soft and delicate sting. . . . Leeches might prick so in mild and drowsy mood.
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