"
She spoke in French, and Jeanne answered gently:
"You know you must speak Italian."
Her eyes were so sad and despairing that Noemi took no notice of her
reproof, and continued in French, saying many endearing things, and
begging for a loving word and a kiss. Both were willingly bestowed.
Noemi did not at once succeed in restoring her friend to her usual calm;
but Jeanne, smoothing back Noemi's hair from her brow with both hands,
and following the caressing gesture with her eyes, begged her gently not
to be afraid that she had wounded her. Sad she was indeed, but that was
no new thing. True she was never gay. This Noemi admitted, but to-day
the cloud of sorrow seemed heavier than ever. Perhaps it was the fault
of _l'Intruse_. Jeanne said, "Indeed it must be so," but with a look and
an accent that implied that _l'Intruse_ who had made her so sad was not
the imaginary being in Maeterlinck's book but the terrible Reaper in
person.
"I have had a letter from Italy," she said, after gently waving aside
Noemi's pressing inquiries. "Don Giuseppe Flores is dead.
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