hilda, meanwhile, had separated herself from the sculptor, and turned back to rejoin her friend.at a distance, she still heard the mirth of her late companions, who were going down the cityward descent of the capitoline hill; they had set up a new stave of melody, in which her own soft voice, as well as the powerful sweetness of miriam's, was sadly missed.
the door of the little courtyard had swung upon its hinges, and partly closed itself.hilda (whose native gentleness pervaded all her movements) was quietly opening it, when she was startled, midway, by the noise of a struggle within, beginning and ending all in one breathless instant.along with it, or closely succeeding it, was a loud, fearful cry, which quivered upward through the air, and sank quivering downward to the earth.then, a silence! poor hilda had looked into the court-yard, and saw the whole quick passage of a deed, which took but that little time to grave itself in the eternal adamant.