CHAPTER 7.XVI.
Und den Mordstahl seh' ich blinken; Und das Morderauge gluhn! "Kassandra." (And I see the steel of Murder glitter, And the eye of Murder glow.) Viola was in the prison that opened not but for those already condemned before adjudged.

Since her exile from Zanoni, her very intellect had seemed paralysed.

All that beautiful exuberance of fancy which, if not the fruit of genius, seemed its blossoms; all that gush of exquisite thought which Zanoni had justly told her flowed with mysteries and subtleties ever new to him, the wise one,--all were gone, annihilated; the blossom withered, the fount dried up.

From something almost above womanhood, she seemed listlessly to sink into something below childhood.
With the inspirer the inspirations had ceased; and, in deserting love, genius also was left behind.
She scarcely comprehended why she had been thus torn from her home and the mechanism of her dull tasks.

She scarcely knew what meant those kindly groups, that, struck with her exceeding loveliness, had gathered round her in the prison, with mournful looks, but with words of comfort.
She, who had hitherto been taught to abhor those whom Law condemns for crime, was amazed to hear that beings thus compassionate and tender, with cloudless and lofty brows, with gallant and gentle mien, were criminals for whom Law had no punishment short of death.