never heard, my brother. As she wept she kissed the stone with ardor;
her tears had troubled me, but her kisses maddened me."

"But, by the pope, it is she who is mad, to kiss a stone and sob for
nothing."

"Oh! it was a great grief that made her sob, a profound love which made
her kiss the stone. Only whom did she love? whom did she weep for? whom
did she pray for? I know not."

"Did you not question this man?"

"Yes."

"What did he reply?

"That she had lost her husband."

"Bah! as if people weep like that for a husband. Were you content with
such an answer?"

"I was obliged to be content, for he would give me no other."

"But the man--what is he?"

"A sort of servant who lives with her."--"His name?"

"He would not tell me."

"Young or old?"