36
The Saint
"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.
