She has thrown herself upon the floor and lies with her hair all wildly scattered and her face buried in the cushions of a couch. She rises up, hurries to and fro, flings herself down again, and rocks and moans. The horror that is upon her is unutterable. If she really were the murderess, it could hardly be, for the moment, more intense.

She hurries to and fro, flings herself down upon the couch, and rocks and moans. The horror that is upon her is unutterable. If she really were the murderess, it could hardly be more intense. 