bringing with her the coveted gift of eternal sleep! The church bells
chimed the hour of five. High, high up, near the white clouds, magic
voices of innumerable bells sang over the houses, the squares, the
streets of Bruges that melancholy incantation which renders its rest
eternal. Jeanne felt two cool hands upon her eyes, a wave of perfume
touched her cheek, a breath stirred her hair, whispering "_encore une
intruse_," and then soft lips kissed her. She did not seem surprised;
and, raising her hand, caressed the face bending over her, saying:
"Welcome, Noemi. _Magari fossi tu l'Intruse_," (Would that you were
_l'Intruse_.)

Noemi failed to understand.

"_Magari_," she said. "Is that Italian? It sounds like Arabic. Explain
at once, please."

Jeanne rose. "You would not understand any better if I did," she said
with a smile. "Shall we have our Italian conversation lesson now?"

"Yes, with pleasure," answered Noemi.

"Where did you go with my brother?"

"To the Hospital of St. John, to call on Memling."

"That's all right; let us talk about Memling. But first tell me whether
Carlino made you a declaration?"

The girl laughed. "Yes, he made me a declaration of war, and I did
likewise _to he_."