This ‘perhaps’, so dear to philosophers, emboldened Gringoire. ‘Do you know what friendship is?’ he asked. ‘Yes,’ the gypsy answered. ‘It means being brother and sister, two souls touching but not merging, two fingers of the same hand.’ ‘And love?’ Gringoire continued. ‘Oh! love!’ she said, her voice trembling and her eyes radiant. ‘That is being two and yet only one. A man and a woman fusing into an angel. It’s heaven.’
