And so they left her to repose, and went silently away to the chapel to take their accustomed places, and join, even at the "eleventh hour," in the morning worship.
But did Salome sleep?
Ah! no.

She lay upon that cot-bed with her hands covering her eyes, as if to shut out all the earth.

She might shut out all the visible creation, but she could not exclude the haunting images that filled her mind.

She could not banish the forms and faces that floated before her inner vision--the most venerable face of her dear, lost father, the noble face of her once beloved--ah! still too well beloved Arondelle! The music of the matin hymns softened by distance, floated into her room, but failed to soothe her to repose.
At length the sweet sounds ceased.
And then-- The abbess entered the cell so softly that Salome, lying with closed eyes on the cot, remained unconscious of the presence standing beside her, looking down upon her form.
The abbess was a tall, fair, blue-eyed woman, upon whose serene brow the seal of eternal peace seemed set.

She was about fifty years of age, but her clear eyes and smooth skin showed how tranquilly these years had passed.