The brow expressed nothing but her obstinate determination to stand by the wreck of that joy, to rekindle the dead ashes of that hope.
The lips were only eloquent of her unflinching resolution to ignore the hateful present and to save the sacred past.

"My idol may be shattered, but none of you shall know it.

I stop the march of discovery; I extinguish the light of truth.

I am deaf to your words; am blind to your proofs.

At seventy years old, my idol is my life.