Like a rock that had been struck by a cannon-ball, Eliza's mind split into a few large independent pieces about now. One piece understood that the existence of these letters made her a French spy in the eyes of Dutch law, and presumably gave William the right to inflict any imaginable punishment on her. Another part was busily trying to figure out what d'Avaux's plan had been (this seemed an over-elaborate way of mailing some letters! – or perhaps not?), and yet a third part seemed to be carrying on polite conversation without really thinking (maybe not such a good idea, but – ). 'What happened last year?'