from a kinsman,—though he may go to Rome without returning empty-handed.”
The frigid tone in which Beatriz spoke these words troubled the youth for a moment, but, clearing his brow, he replied sadly:
“I know it, cousin, but to-day is the festival of All Saints, and yours among them,—a holiday on which gifts are fitting. Will you accept mine?”
Beatriz slightly bit her lip and put out her hand for the jewel, without a word.
The two again fell silent and again heard the quavering voices of the old women telling of witches and hobgoblins, the whistling wind which shook the ogive windows, and the mournful, monotonous tolling of the bells.
After the lapse of some little time, the interrupted dialogue was thus renewed: