From beneath the pavement of the church came the deep, lugubrious strain of a De Profundis, which sounded like an utterance of the tomb itself; so dismally did it rumble through the burial vaults, and ooze up among the flat gravestones and sad epitaphs, filling the church as with a gloomy mist.
"I must look more closely at that dead monk before we leave the church," remarked the sculptor.

"In the study of my art, I have gained many a hint from the dead which the living could never have given me." "I can well imagine it," answered Miriam.

"One clay image is readily copied from another.

But let us first see Guido's picture.

The light is favorable now." Accordingly, they turned into the first chapel on the right hand, as you enter the nave; and there they beheld,--not the picture, indeed,--but a closely drawn curtain.