raised.

In mortal terror of people forcing an entrance at such an hour, and in
such a manner as to leave no doubt of their purpose, I would have turned
to fly when first I heard the noise, only that I feared by any quick
motion to catch their attention, as I also ran the danger of doing by
opening the door, which was all but closed, and to whose handlings
I was unaccustomed. Again, quick as lightning, I bethought me of the
hiding-place between the locked door to my husband's dressing-room and
the portiere which covered it; but I gave that up, I felt as if I could
not reach it without screaming or fainting. So I sank down softly,
and crept under the table, hidden, as I hoped, by the great, deep
table-cover, with its heavy fringe. I had not recovered my swooning
senses fully, and was trying to reassure myself as to my being in a
place of comparative safety, for, above all things, I dreaded the
betrayal of fainting, and struggled hard for such courage as I might
attain by deadening myself to the danger I was in by inflicting intense
pain on myself. You have often asked me the reason of that mark on my
hand; it was where, in my agony, I bit out a piece of flesh with my
relentless teeth, thankful for the pain, which helped to numb my terror.
I say, I was but just concealed when I heard the window lifted, and one
after another stepped over the sill, and stood by me so close that I
could have touched their feet. Then they laughed and whispered; my brain
swam so that I could not tell the meaning of their words, but I heard my
husband's laughter among the rest--low, hissing, scornful--as he kicked
something heavy that they had dragged in over the floor, and which lay
near me; so near, that my husband's kick, in touching it, touched me
too. I don't know why--I can't tell how--but some feeling, and not
curiosity, prompted me to put out my hand, ever so softly, ever so
little, and feel in the darkness for what lay spurned beside me. I
stole my groping palm upon the clenched and chilly hand of a corpse!

Strange to say, this roused me to instant vividness of thought. Till
this moment I had almost forgotten Amante; now I planned with feverish
rapidity how I could give her a warning not to return; or rather, I
should say, I tried to plan, for all my projects were utterly futile, as
I might have seen from the first. I could only hope she would hear the
voices of those who were now busy in trying to kindle a light, swearing
awful oat