She stilled her breath as she might, stilled her heart as she might, lest its beating should be heard.

What was about to happen?
Where could she fly, and how?
Escape by the central stairway would be out of the question, because by that way only could danger approach.

She leaned out of the window.

Catching at the coarse ivy vine which climbed up the old wall of the house, she saw that it ascended past her window to the very cornice where the white pillars joined the roof.

The pillars themselves, vast and smooth, would have been useless even could she have reached them.