"O God, he is going mad," she cried to herself.
Antony was sitting in a big chair drawn up to the fire.

Opposite to him, lying back in her cushions, was the Image draped in a large black velvet cloak.

A table stood between them, and on it stood two glasses, and a decanter nearly empty of wine, Silencieux's glass stood untasted, but Antony had evidently been drinking deeply, for his cheeks were flushed and his eyes wild.
He was speaking in angry, passionate, despairing tones.

One of her strange moods of silence had come upon Silencieux, and she lay back in her pillows stonily unresponsive.
"For God's sake speak to me," Antony cried.

"I love you with my whole heart.