The divorce proceedings to which she alluded had now come to a standstill, fresh obstacles ever arising to stay their course.
Pierre was much moved by her tears, for she seldom wept.

She herself sometimes confessed, with her calm smile, that she did not know how to weep.

But now her heart was melting, and for a moment she remained overcome, leaning on the mossy, crumbling sarcophagus, whilst the clear water falling from the gaping mouth of the tragic mask still sounded its flutelike note.

And a sudden thought of death came to the priest as he saw her, so young and so radiant with beauty, half fainting beside that marble resting-place where fauns were rushing upon nymphs in a frantic bacchanal which proclaimed the omnipotence of love--that omnipotence which the ancients were fond of symbolising on their tombs as a token of life's eternity.

And meantime a faint, warm breeze passed through the sunlit, silent garden, wafting hither and thither the penetrating scent of box and orange.
"One has so much strength when one loves," Pierre at last murmured.
"Yes, yes, you are right," she replied, already smiling again.