ilence.

Jeanne, this time ignoring the fact that Noemi did not answer,
exclaimed:

"It _would_ be nice if he had just now stopped suffering from
temptations!"

Her sarcasm is so comic, that--although she is greatly shocked--Noemi
cannot help laughing; and Jeanne laughs with her. In spite of her mirth,
Noemi reproaches Jeanne for saying such intensely foolish things without
stopping to reflect. For Noemi knows her friend, and knows that the
Jeanne of this hour is not the true Jeanne, self-possessed and mistress
of herself; or rather perhaps it is the true Jeanne, but certainly not
she who will stand before Piero Maironi, if, by any chance, they meet.

The thunder has ceased, and Jeanne would like to see what the weather
is, but she dreads to leave her bed, fearing to feel ill again, fearing
to discover she will not be able to go up to the monastery a few hours
hence. She also fears the opposition of her hosts, should the weather
prove too unpleasant. She is therefore anxious to see how the sky looks.
Get up must Noemi, the slave whose acts of rebellion very seldom ended
in victory. Noemi rises, opens the window, and examines the darkness,
her hand extended. Tiny, frequent drops tickle her palm. The darkness
grows less impenetrable as her eyes become accustomed to it. She
distinguishes, down below, Santa Maria della Febbre, grey, against a
black background. The mass of heavy mist grows lighter, and the arms of
the oak towering on the right show black against it. The tiny, frequent
drops continue to tickle her outstretched hand, which she finally
withdraws. Jeanne questions.

"Well?" "It is raining."

She sighs "What a bother," as if it were going to rain for ever. And the
tiny drops acquire a louder voice, fill the room with soft murmurs, and
then are hushed once more. Jeanne does not understand the soft murmurs,
does not understand that the man of whom her heart is full is lying
unconscious, on the lonely, rocky, hillside, down which the rain washes.

Late on the following morning Signora Selva, somewhat anxious because
neither of her guests had as yet appeared, entered her sister's room
quietly. Noemi was nearly dressed, and signed to her to be silent.
Jeanne had fallen asleep at last. The two sisters left the room together
and went to the study where Giovanni was waiting for them. Well? Was Don
Clemente really the man? The husband and wife were anxious to know in
order to regulate their conduct accordingly. Gi