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JENNY
69

very impressive. The church was in semi-darkness, in spite of the lighted chandeliers; they hung so high that their blaze of light was lost. The altar was one solitary wall of light from the flashing golden flames of hundreds of wax candles, and the subdued sound of the organ and the singing of the choir floated through the church. He sat beside a lovely young Italian woman, who took a rosary of lapis lazuli from a velvet case and prayed fervently. Gradually Francesca began to mutter more and more audibly. She was sitting beside Jenny in front of him.

"Let's go, Jenny. You don't think this gives you any sort of real Christmas feeling, do you? It's like an ordinary concert, and a bad one at that. Listen to that man singing now—absolutely no expression. His voice is absolutely done. Ugh!"

"Hush, Cesca! Remember you are in church."

"Church! It's a concert, I tell you—didn't we have to get tickets and a program? I can't stand it. I shall lose my temper soon."

"We'll go after this if you like, but do keep quiet while we are here."

"New Year's night last year was quite different," said Francesca. "I went to Gesu. They had the Te Deum; it was very beautiful. I knelt beside an old peasant from the Campagna and a young girl; she looked ill—but oh, so pretty! Everybody sang; the old man knew the whole Te Deum by heart. It was very solemn."

As they made their way slowly down the crowded aisle, the Ave Maria sounded through the church.

"Ave Maria." Francesca sniffed. "Can't you hear how indifferent she is to what she sings—exactly like a gramophone? I cannot bear to hear that kind of music ill-treated."

"Ave Maria," said a Dane walking beside her—"I remem-