From the windows above her head on the left, she heard
the voices of soldiers. A song was being sung, and she could hear the
words. How cruel it was that other people should have so much of light-
hearted joy in the world, but that for her everything should have been
so terribly sad! The wind, as it met her, seemed to penetrate to her
bones. She was very cold! But it was useless to regard that. There was
no place on the face of the earth that would ever be warm for her.
As she passed along the causeway leading to the bridge, a sound with
which she was very familiar met her ears. They were singing vespers
under the shadow of one of the great statues which are placed one over
each arch of the bridge. There was a lay friar standing by a little
table, on which there was a white cloth and a lighted lamp and a small
crucifix; and above the crucifix, supported against the stone-work of
the bridge, there was a picture of the Virgin with her Child, and there
was a tawdry wreath of paper flowers, so that by the light of the lamp
you could see that a little altar had been prepared.
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