As the Convent clock was striking, therefore, the Mother Superior and Sister Giovanna came down the narrow stairs, for they had been together a quarter of an hour, though they had scarcely exchanged half-a-dozen words.

They walked slowly round under the vaulted cloister, the Mother on the right, the nun on the left, according to the rigid custom, and they had just turned the last corner and were in sight of the two chairs when the glass door opened.
Monsignor Saracinesca's voice was heard.
'Remember what I have said.

I trust you, and you know that the cloister is open to every one.' 'Yes,' Giovanni answered, as both appeared on the threshold.
They saw the two nuns already near and made a few steps to meet them.
Monsignor Saracinesca greeted the Mother, who bent her head as she answered him; Giovanni stood still, his eyes fixed on Angela's face.
But she looked steadily down at the flagstones, and her hands were hidden under the broad scapular of white cloth that hung straight down from under her gorget to her feet.
There are no awkward silences when churchmen or nuns meet, still less if the meeting takes place by appointment, for each knows exactly what he or she is expected to say and says it, deliberately and without hesitation.

In less than a minute after they had met, the Mother and Monsignor Saracinesca entered the hall together and closed the glass door after them.

The soldier and the nun were face to face at last.
As soon as Giovanni heard the door shut he made one step forward and stretched out both his hands, thinking to take hers.