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He fancied that the whole fabric of the bridge was cracking over head,—that the arch was tumbling upon him,—that the torrent was swelling around him, whirling him off, and about to bury him in the deafening abyss. She was going through a new world with him side by side. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. . She sensed his acute frustration as he unzipped her raincoat while trying to kiss her. He walked out into the Champs Elysées and sat down.
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