They can never lay that to me!' Afterwards she began to wring her hands, with a cry of 'Fie, poison, poison, poison!' looking at Richard all the time.
'This poor lady,' he told himself, 'is possessed by a devil, therefore no wife for me, who have devil enough and to spare.' 'What ails you, Madame ?' he asked her.

'Tell me your grief, and upon my life I will amend it if I can.' 'You cannot,' she said.

'Nothing can mend it.' 'Then, with leave'-- he went to the curtains--'I will call your Grace's people.

Our discussions can be later; there is time enough.' She would have stopped him had she dared, or had the force; but literally she was spent.

There was just time to get the women in before she tumbled.