It was that of a Latin hymn for the dying.

Next through the open door came the choir, eight veiled nuns walking two by two, and ranging themselves on either side of the vault they ceased their singing.

After them followed the doomed woman, guarded by two more nuns, and last of all a priest bearing a crucifix.

This man wore a black robe, and his thin half-frenzied face was uncovered.

All these and other things I noticed and remembered, yet at the time it seemed to me that I saw nothing except the figure of the victim.