like doors opening along one side. It was lighted by a single jet of flickering gas. The whole space had once been the great banqueting hall of the palace but years before it had been filled in thus with partitions and converted into a kind of rookery by the grandfather of Father d'Astier, who now owned the palace. At the end of the corridor the janitress turned and knocked and the two women stepped into a small square room like a long box turned on end. It was not more than ten by twelve feet in size, but it was high, so high that in the dim glow of the night light floating in a bowl of cheap blue pottery the ceiling would have been lost in shadow save for the occasional glint struck by the light against the ancient gilding of the painted beams. As they entered there arose a flutter and commotion from a great number of tiny birds which rose from the end of the bed where they had been perching and circled blindly about until one by one they settled on the rows of cages hung against the grey wall. In one corner there was a narrow iron bed and on it lay the dying woman, a coarse poor sheet drawn up to her chin.
She was quite still and lay on her back with her eyes closed. It was a curious face, neither old nor young, not beautiful and yet fascinating by the perfection of its modelling. It was the first time anyone save Signora Bardelli had ever seen the face without the hat and the thick veil. Great masses of red hair lay on the pillow. In front it was cut short in a long fringe that hid completely the forehead.
For a moment Sister Annunziata stood by the side
