Wide-eyed and sick, she made her way to the railing, and, clinging to the vines, stared for she knew not how long at the dull red glow on the mountain.
The flames were gone, but the last red tinge of their anger still clung to the spot where the bungalow had stood.

Behind her, there were lights in a dozen rooms of the chateau.

She knew that she was not the only sleepless one.

Others were lying wide awake and tense, but for reasons scarcely akin to hers; they were appalled, not heartsick.
The night was still and ominously dark.

She had never known a night since she came to Japat when the birds and insects were so mute.