Beatrice was singing, too, with joined hands, and parted lips, and upturned face.
"Let dreams be far, and phantasms of the night--bind Thou our Foe," sang Beatrice in long, sweet notes.
Unorna heard no more.

The light dazzled her, and the blood beat in her heart.

It seemed as though no prayer that was ever prayed could be offered up more directly against herself, and the voice that sang it, though not loud, had the rare power of carrying every syllable distinctly in its magic tones, even to a great distance.

As she knelt, it was as if Beatrice had been even nearer, and had breathed the words into her very ear.

Afraid to look round, lest her face should betray her emotion, Unorna glanced down at the kneeling nuns.