That some feeling hath burnt there . . . burnt out, and burnt up
Health and hope. So you feel when you gaze down the cup
Of extinguish'd volcanoes: you judge of the fire
Once there, by the ravage you see;--the desire,
By the apathy left in its wake, and that sense
Of a moral, immovable, mute impotence.

ALFRED.

Humph! . . . I see you have finished, at last, your cigar;
Can I offer another?

STRANGER.

No, thank you. We are
Not two miles from Luchon.

ALFRED.

You know the road well?

STRANGER.

I have often been over it.


XVI.


Here a pause fell