There was an air of repressed gaiety in her actions: the sense of freedom had returned; her heart was empty again. Turning off again on the left, down Seacoal Lane, they arrived at the mouth of a dark, narrow alley, into which they plunged; and, at the farther extremity found a small yard, overlooked by the blank walls of a large gloomy habitation. She reminded him sometimes of the one holy and ineffable Madonna, at others of Berode, the great courtezan of her day, who had sent kings away from her doors, and had just announced her intention of ending her life in a convent. About them quickly. The thousand voices which a few moments before had been so clamorous were now hushed.
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