’ Melusine had crossed to the window that overlooked the front of the house, and was trying to peep through a crack in the shutters. She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. 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. Sometimes I think she’s tired of us. Her nerves were shattered, her senses dazed by this unexpected shock. O'Higgins was to keep track of you until I believed you had had enough punishment.
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