She came to this room in her bridal dress to call her father, that he might get ready to take her to the altar, to give her to you, and she found him here murdered--weltering in his blood.

It was enough to have killed her, or unseated her reason forever," said the lady, as she busied herself with unfastening the rich, white, satin bodice of the wedding robe.
"Oh, Salome! Salome! that I could bear this sorrow for you! Oh, my darling, that all my love should be powerless to save you from a sorrow like this!" cried the young man, dropping his head upon his clenched hands.
"My lord," continued Lady Belgrade, who was now applying a vial of sal ammonia to her patient's nostrils: "my dear Lord Arondelle, rouse yourself for her sake! She has no father, brother, or male relative to take direction of affairs in this awful crisis of her life.

You, her betrothed husband, should do it--must do it! Rouse yourself at once.

Look at this stupefied and gaping crowd of people! Do not be like one of them.
Something must be done at once.

Do WHAT OUGHT TO BE DONE!" she cried with sudden vehemence.
"I know what should be done, and I will do it," said the young man, in a tone of mournful resolution.