Bellamy looked at her for a moment in sorrowful silence.

There were violet lines underneath her beautiful eyes, her cheeks were destitute of any color.

There was an abandonment of grief about her attitude which moved him.
She sat as one broken-spirited, in whom the power of resistance was dead.
"It is over, then," she said softly, "this meeting.

The word has been spoken." He came and stood by her side.
"As yet," he reminded her, "we do not know what that word may be." She shook her head mournfully.
"Who can doubt ?" she exclaimed.

"For myself, I feel it in the air! I can see it in the faces of the people who throng the city! I can hear it in the peals of those awful bells! You know nothing?
You have heard nothing ?" Bellamy shook his head.
"I did all that was humanly possible," he said, dropping his voice.
"An Englishman in Vienna to-day has very little opportunity.