What had happened?

What had happened was simply that Adrian Baker had died in New York of
an acute attack of pneumonia. The news had spread through the city with
the rapidity with which bad news spreads, and it had also penetrated
into Berta's house. At first it seemed incredible that Adrian Baker should
have died, as if the life of this man were not subject to the
contingencies to which the lives of other mortals are subject. But the
tidings had been confirmed and they must be believed. Besides, the aspect
of the palace bore testimony to the authenticity of the news. In that
house hung with black the very stones seemed to mourn. The news had come
in a black-bordered letter dated in New York and signed by the head
of the house of Wilson and Company, with which Adrian Baker had large sums
deposited.

Berta's father and the housekeeper looked at each other with amazement,
and repeated, one after the other:

"He is dead!"

"He is dead!"

Berta, pale as death itself, surprised them as they uttered these words,
and in a sepulchral voice she said:

"Yes, he has died in New York, but he lives in my heart."

And turning from them she fled to her room and seated herself at the
window from which she could see the terrace of the palace. The flowers,
agitated gently by the breezes of spring, leaned toward Berta as if