Three times the tiny bell was rung, a pause followed, and thrice again the clear jingle of the metal broke the solemn stillness.  Then once more the people stirred, and the soft sound of their simultaneous motion was like a mighty sigh breathed up from the secret vaults and the deep foundations of the ancient church; again the pedal note of the organ boomed through the nave and aisles, and again the thousands of human voices took up the strain of song.

The Wanderer glanced about him, measuring the distance he must traverse to reach the monument of the Danish astronomer and confronting it with the short time which now remained before the end of the Mass.  He saw that in such a throng he would have no chance of gaining the position he wished to occupy in less than half an hour, and he had not but a scant ten minutes at his disposal.  He gave up the attempt therefore, determining that when the celebration should be over he would move forward with the crowd, trusting to his superior stature and energy to keep him within sight of the woman he sought, until both he and she could meet, either just within or just without the narrow entrance of the church.

Very soon the moment of action came.  The singing died away, the benediction was given, the second Gospel was read, the priest and the people repeated the Bohemian prayers, and all was over.  The countless heads began to move onward, the shuffling of innumerable feet sent heavy, tuneless echoes through vaulted space, broken every moment by the sharp, painful cough of a suffering child whom no one could see in the multitude, or by the dull thud of some heavy foot striking against the wooden seats in the press.  The Wanderer moved forward with the rest.  Reaching the entrance of the pew where she had sat he was kept back during a few seconds by the half dozen men and women who were forcing their way out of it before him.  But at the farthest end, a figure clothed in black was still kneeling.  A moment more and he might enter the pew and be at her side.  One of the other women dropped something before she was out of the narrow space, and stooped, fumbling and searching in the darkness.  At the minute, the slight, girlish figure rose swiftly and passed like a shadow before the heavy marble monument.  The Wanderer saw that the pew was open at the other end, and without heeding the woman who stood in his way, he sprang upon the low seat, passed her, stepped to the floor upon the other side and was out in the aisle in a moment.  Many persons had already left the church and the space was comparatively free.

She was before him, gliding quickly toward the door.  Ere he could reach her, he saw her touch the thick ice which filled the marble basin, cross herself hurriedly and pass out.  But he had seen her face again, and he knew that he was not mistaken.  The thin, waxen features were as those of the dead, but they were hers, nevertheless.  In an instant he could be by her side.  But again his progress was momentarily