Carlino, not knowing what better to do, began
discoursing in a loud voice on the most appropriate position for his
window.
"What day is this?" Jeanne asked her friend under her breath.
"Saturday."
"To-morrow I will speak to Carlino, Monday and Tuesday we will settle
our affairs, Wednesday we will pack our boxes, and Thursday we will
start. You can write to your sister that we shall be at Subiaco the week
after next."
"Don't decide so suddenly. Think about it."
"I have decided. I must know. If it is he, I will not be a hindrance in
his path. But I wish to see him." "We will talk it over again to morrow,
Jeanne. Do not decide yet,"
"I have thought it over, and I have made up my mind."
Midnight sounded from the great tower of the Halles. High up in the
clouds rang out the long solemn melancholy song of the innumerable
bells. Noemi, who had intended to have her own way, was silent, her
heart full of despondency. It was as if those melancholy voices from the
darkening sky were proclaiming her friend's destiny; a destiny of love
and suffering, which must be accomplished.
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