She reminded him sometimes of the one holy and ineffable Madonna, at others of Berode, the great courtezan of her day, who had sent kings away from her doors, and had just announced her intention of ending her life in a convent. Her voice was soft and singularly musical; but from time to time she uttered old-fashioned words which forced him to grope mentally. The air, perfumed with the delicious fragrance of the new-mown grass, was vocal with the melodies of the birds; the thick foliage of the trees was glistening in the sunshine; all nature seemed happy and rejoicing; but, above all, the serene Sabbath stillness reigning around communicated a calm to her wounded spirit. “Not much,” he answered, “and yet about all there is to be known, I fancy. “Come upstairs,” she said, “and I will show you your room.
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