Cecilia where
the murdered saint once lay, though her remains are now enshrined in
the Church of St. Cecilia in Trastevere, the Trappist suddenly left
him at a corner to attend to other incoming visitors, and
disappeared. Aubrey looked around him, vaguely touched and awed by
the solemnity of the scene;--the damp walls on which old Byzantine
paintings of the seventh century were still visible, though
crumbling fast away,--the glimmering lights,--the little crowd of
people pressed together,--the brilliantly illuminated altar,--the
droning accents of the officiating priests;--and presently the sound
of a boy's exquisite young voice rose high and pure, singing the
Agnus Dei. St. Cecilia herself might have been enraptured by such
sweet harmony,--and Aubrey Leigh instinctively bent his head, moved
strongly by the holy and tender fervour of the anthem. Growing
accustomed to the flickering lights, he presently perceived the
Princesse D'Agramont a little in front of him,--and beside her were
her two friends, Angela Sovrani and Sylvie Hermenstein. Sylvie was
kneeling, and her face was hidden. Angela was seated,--and her eyes,
full of the radiance of thought and dreaming genius, were fixed on
the altar. Gradually he moved up till he reached the rough bench
where they were all together--the Princesse D'Agramont saw him at
once, and signed to him to take a vacant place next to Sylvie.
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