"I really believe Giovanni is right, you know," said she. "This Don
Clemente comes from Brescia."

Jeanne, overcome by an excess of misery, threw her arms round her
friend's neck and burst into tears. Noemi, dismayed, implored her to
calm herself.

"For God's sake, Jeanne!"

Between her sobs, she asked Noemi whether Carlino knew. Oh, no, but what
would he think now?

"He cannot see us here," sobbed Jeanne. They were in the shadow of the
church. Noemi was surprised that Jeanne, in spite of her emotion, had
noticed the fact.

"For mercy's sake, do not let him find out. For mercy's sake!"

Noemi promised to be silent. Jeanne grew calmer little by little, and
was the first to move. Oh, to be alone! Alone in her own room! The sight
of the tower of Notre Dame piercing the sky with its pointed spire hurt
her, like the sight of some victorious and implacable foe. She now saw
clearly that for three years she had been deceiving herself in thinking
that she no longer hoped. This hope which she had thought dead, how it
still struggled and suffered, how it persisted in assailing her heart.
No, no, he has not become a monk, it is not he! In an access of longing,
she pressed Noemi's arm. The reassuring voice was growing weaker, was
fading away. Probably it was he, probably all was really over for ever.
The silence of the night, the sadness of the moon, the gloom of the dead
streets, an icy breeze which had sprung up, were in harmony with her