He muttered to himself, and his eyes gazed round restlessly.

She knew not why, but that gaze, which seemed to pierce into space,--that muttered voice in some foreign language--revived dimly her earlier superstitions.

She was more fearful since the hour when she knew that she was to be a mother.

Strange crisis in the life of woman, and in her love! Something yet unborn begins already to divide her heart with that which had been before its only monarch.
"Look on me, Zanoni," she said, pressing his hand.
He turned: "Thou art pale, Viola; thy hand trembles!" "It is true.

I feel as if some enemy were creeping near us." "And the instinct deceives thee not.