"Because the name is so
delightful, it has the ring of a word congealed by German frost and then
melted by the Eastern sun."
"Nonsense! You are talking chemistry! I prefer Algol."
"You and your pastor may go to Algol."
Noemi laughed, and Carlino appealed to Jeanne. Which star would she
prefer? Jeanne did not know; she had not been listening. Carlino was
greatly annoyed; he seemed to want to reprove her, not so much for her
inattention, as for the hidden thoughts which had caused it; and then,
fearing to say too much, he sent her away to meditate, to dream, to
write the philosophy of smoke and clouds. But when she, not in the least
annoyed, was about to leave the room, he called her back to inquire
whether she had heard how his novel was to end. Yes! she had heard; a
moonlight walk of the hero and heroine through the streets of Bruges.
"Well," said Carlino, "as there will be a moon to-night, I should like
to walk with you and Noemi from ten to twelve and take some notes."
"Shall I dress myself as a priest?" asked Jeanne as she went out.
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