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Updated: May 15, 2025
The scene there on the Embankment her own bitter anger, her frozen hatred; then the dead man with his face turned to the wall; the stillness, the clock ticking, her own cold voice speaking to him, calling; then the terrified scrutiny, the touch of the wrist, the realization, the moment's awful horror, the silence which grew more profound, the sudden paralysis of body and will.... And then music, strange, soft, mysterious music coming from somewhere inside the room, music familiar and yet unnatural, a song she had heard once before, a pathetic folk-song of eastern Europe, "More Was Lost at Mohacksfield."
You look terribly ill, just when you should look so well." "Why should I look so well?" He gazed at her steadily. Had she any glimmering of the real situation? She was staying now in Byng's house, and two days had gone since the world had gone wrong; since Jasmine had sunk to the floor unconscious as Al'mah sang, "More was lost at Mohacksfield." "Why should you look so well?
The great voice swelled out in a passion of agony, then sank away into a note of despair that gripped the heart. "But more was lost at Mohacksfield "
I sang, 'More Was Lost at Mohacksfield. As soon as I saw your face that evening I felt you knew all. You had been to his rooms and found him dead. I was sure of that. You remember how La Tosca killed Scarpia? You remember how she felt? I felt so just like that. I never hesitated. I knew what I wanted to do, and I did it." "How did you kill him?"
Behind it all was the music of the song she had sung at Rudyard Byng's house the evening of the day Adrian Fellowes had died "More was lost at Mohacksfield." The stupefaction that comes with tragedy crept over her.
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