She bows her head. He is breathing rapidly. She lifts her eyes and looks at him. They are silent for a moment, then he says: “My God, Mona! Do you mean _that_?... Really mean it?” “Yes.” And then she tells him everything--all her great, divine, delirious project. He gasps, and then his face also shines, as little by little her dream rises before them. “Do you think that vain and foolish, Oskar ... that we should do as He did, of our own free will, to save the world from all this hatred and bitterness?” Oskar throws up his head; his eyes are streaming. “No! No! For God’s in His heaven, Mona.” And then, these two poor creatures whom the world has cast out, clasped hand in hand, and seeing no difference in the wild confusion and delirium of their whirling thoughts, talk together in whispers of how they are going to save the world from war, and the bitter results of war, by doing as He did who was the great Vanquisher of death and Redeemer of the soul from sin--give up their lives in love and sacrifice. “So even if the churches are all you say, there’s Jesus still....” “Yes, yes, there’s Jesus still, Mona.” _SIXTEENTH CHAPTER_ At five o’clock next morning a young man and a young woman are climbing the hill that stands between the camp and the sea. There is only a pale grey light in the sky; the last stars are dying out; the morning is very quiet. Sometimes a cock crows in the closed-up hen houses of the neighbouring farms; sometimes a dog barks through the half-darkness. Save for these there is no sound except that of the soft breeze which passes over the earth before daybreak. The two walk side by side. They can hardly see each other’s faces, and are holding hands to keep together. Partly because of the darkness and partly for reasons obscure even to themselves, they are walking slowly, and pausing at every few steps to take breath. They are trying to make their journey as long as possible. It is to be their last. “Forgive me, Oskar,” says Mona. “There is nothing to forgive, Mona. It had to be.” “Yes, it had to be. There was no other way, was there?” “No, there was no other way, Mona.” What remained of the internment camp had not been stirring when they passed through the lane that led from the farm to the grazing land, but by the time they are half-way up the hill there are sounds from the black ground below them. Looking back, they see groups of vague figures moving about in the Third Compound. A little later they hear the call of a bugle--the last batch of prisoners is being gathered up. Still later, when the light is better, there is the sharp ringing of a bell--the roll has been called and Oskar is missing. “It’s for me,” he says, and they stop. By this time they are near to the wall of the little cemetery that surrounds the tower, and to avoid being seen they wait under its dark shelter.