"Poor creature!" said Maria. It seemed to her and to her husband that
their affection for one another was more tender than ever to-night, but
nevertheless--though neither said so--both felt that there was something
deterring them from the kiss of love.
Jeanne, as soon as Noemi had closed the door of their room behind them,
fell upon her neck in a paroxysm of uncontrollable sobbing. Poor Noemi
had concluded, from the effect produced on her friend when the monk
hastened past her, that he was Maironi, and she was now overcome with
pity. She spoke most loving, tender, and sweet words to her, in the
voice of one soothing a suffering child. Jeanne did not answer, but her
sobbing continued.
"Perhaps it is better so, dear," Noemi ventured to say. "Perhaps it is
better for you to know, that you may no longer cherish a false hope;
better for you to have seen him in that habit."
This time an answer came between the sobs, "No, no!" Jeanne repeated
passionately and vehemently many times, and the tone, though hardly
sorrowful, was so strange that Noemi was greatly puzzled.
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