What was that faint approaching sound, drawing nearer and nearer through the darkness, that banished the haunting, dreadful images that crowded in her brain? It loosed the iron band that was bound about her aching temples. It melted the icy armor that was riveted about her torn and sorrowful heart....
"Ting-ting!"
She turned her head to the quarter whence it came, and listened, breathing quickly. Again came the silvern tinkle.
"Ting-ting-ting! ..."
Now the sound of heavy approaching footsteps came with it, and Fear fell from her like a pall all snow-wet. She rose up among the rustling dead leaves, bent, laid her hand on the shoulder of the sleeper, and roused him cautiously. He awakened, and said through the fingers she laid in caution on his lips:
"Who is it?..." And then instantly remembered, and passionately kissed the warning hand.
"Ting-ting, ting-ting!..."
"Do you hear, Monsieur?" she panted.
She snatched away the hand. He rose to his knees and listened.... Dawn, creeping into the hovel, painted their hands and faces gray. White teeth flashed in the gray of his, as he said to her joyfully:
"It is a priest, with the Blessed Sacrament!"