Jeanne waited in the carriage, distressed at not having as yet discovered the object of this visit, in spite of Donna Rosetta's flow of words.

Five minutes, ten minutes, passed.

Jeanne drew herself up out of the corner where she had leaned, absorbed in her thoughts.

She watched the entrance to the convent to see if Donna Rosetta were not coming.

Rare wayfarers, passing slowly along the quiet street, looked into the carriage.