Indeed, the night at present was so
dark, that one standing still and looking for her would hardly be able
to define her figure. And yet, dark as it was, she could see something
of the movement of the waters beneath her, some shimmer produced by the
gliding movement of the stream. Ah! she would go now and have done with
it. Every moment that she remained was but an added agony.
Then, at that moment, she heard a voice on the bridge near her, and she
crouched close again, in order that the passenger might pass by without
noticing her. She did not wish that anyone should hear the splash of
her plunge, or be called on to make ineffectual efforts to save her. So
she would wait again. The voice drew nearer to her, and suddenly she
became aware that it was Souchey's voice. It was Souchey, and he was
not alone. It must be Anton who had come out with him to seek her,
and to save her. But no. He should have no such relief as that from
his coming sorrow. So she clung fast, waiting till they should pass,
but still leaning a little towards the causeway, so that, if it were
possible, she might see the figures as they passed.
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