ltogether gone now, and there was nothing left but the
ancient instinct of the primeval woman mourning her dead mate alone,
with long-drawn, hopeless weeping and blinding tears.

They came, too, when she had lain upon his breast a little while and
when understanding had wholly ceased and given way to nature. Then her
body shook and her breast heaved strongly, almost throwing her upon her
side as she lay, and sounds that were hardly human came from her lips;
for the first dissolving of a woman's despair into tears is most like
the death agony of those who die young in their strength, when the limbs
are wrung at the joints and the light breaks in the upturned eyes, when
the bosom heaves and would take in the whole world at one breath, when
the voice makes sounds of fear that are beyond words and worse to hear
than any words could be.

Her weeping was wild at first, measureless and violent, broken by sharp
cries that hurt her heart like jagged knives, then strangled to a
choking silence again and again, as the merciless consciousness that
could have killed, if it had prevailed, almost had her by the throat,
but was forced back again with cruel pain by the young life that would
not die, though living was agony and death would have been as welcome as
air.

Then her loud grief subsided to a lower key, and her voice grew by
degrees monotonous and despairing as the turning tide on a quicksand,
before bad weather,--not diminished, but deeper drawn within itself; and
the low moan came regularly with each breath, while the tears flowed
steadily. The first wild tempest had swept by, and the more enduring
storm followed in its track.

So she lay a long time weeping; and then strong hands were upon her,
lifting her up and dragging her away, without warning and without word.
She did not understand, and she fancied herself in the arms of some
supernatural being of monstrous strength that was tearing her from what
was left of life and love. She struggled senselessly, but she could find
no foothold as she was swept through the open door. She gasped for
breath, as one does in bad dreams, and bodily fear almost reached her
heart through its sevenfold armour of such grief as makes fear
ridiculous and turns mortal danger to an empty show. The time had seemed
an age since she had fallen upon dead Don John--it had measured but a
short few minutes; it seemed as if she were being dragged the whole
length of the dim palace as the strong hands