The lofty apartment into which he led them, was filled with the odor of
incense. A large bedstead, over which a pointed canopy of heavy silk
rose to the ceiling, stood at the back, the coffin in which the dead
woman lay had been placed in the middle of the room. A linen cloth,
trimmed with lace, covered the face. The delicate hands, still
unwrinkled, were folded, and lightly clasped a well-worn rosary. The
lifeless form was concealed beneath a costly coverlid, in the centre of
which lay an exquisitely-carved ivory crucifix.

The visitors bowed mutely before the corpse. Belotti approached it and,
as he saw the padrona's well-known hands, a convulsive sob shook the old
man's breast. Then he knelt beside the coffin, pressed his lips, to the
cold, slender fingers, and a warm tear, the only one shed for this dead
form, fell on the hands now clasped forever.

The burgomaster and his companion did not interrupt him, even when he
laid his forehead upon the wood of the coffin and uttered a brief, silent
prayer. After he had risen, and an elderly priest in the sacerdotal
robes had left the room, Father Damianus beckoned to the acolytes, with
whom he had lingered in the background, and aided by them and Belotti put
the lid on the coffin, then turned to Peter Van der Werff, saying:

"We intend to bury Fraulein Van Hoogstraten at midnight, that no offence
may be given."

"Very well, sir!" replied the burgomaster. "Whatever may happen, we
shall not expel you from the city. Of course, if you prefer to go to the
Spaniards--"

Damianus shook his head and, interrupting the burgomaster, answered