had thrown earth into it with his hands. He sent them away, and they
left him alone with the dead, leaving also one of their lanterns upon a
stone near by.

All that night he lay on the grave, dumb. Then, when the dawn came upon
him, he kissed the loose earth and stones, and got upon his feet and
went slowly down the hillside to the town beyond the torrent. He went
into the house noiselessly, and lay down upon the bed on which she had
died. And so he did for two nights and two days. On the third, a great
carriage came from Rome, bringing twelve men, singers of the Sistine
Chapel and of the choir of Saint Peter's and of Saint John Lateran,
twelve men having very beautiful voices, as sweet as any in the world.
He had sent for them when he had been told that she could not have
Christian burial.

They were talking and laughing together when they came, but when they
saw his face they grew very quiet, and followed him in silence where he
led them. Two little boys followed them, too, wondering what was to
happen, and what the thirteen men were going to do, all dressed in
black, walking so steadily together.

When they all came to the hollow in the hillside, they saw a mound, as
of a grave, amidst the stones, and on it there lay a cross of black
wood. The singers looked at one another in silence, and they understood
that whoever lay in the grave had been refused a place in the
churchyard, for some great sin. But they said nothing. The man who led
them stood still at the head of the cross and took off his hat, and
looked at his twelve companions, who uncovered their heads. They had
sheets of written music with them, and they passed them quietly about
from one to another and looked towards one who was their leader.

Overhead, the summer sky was pale, and there were twin mountains of
great clouds in the northwest, hiding the sun, and in the southeast,
whence the parching wind was blowing in fierce gusts. It blew the dry
dust from the clods of earth on the grave, and the dust settled on the
black clothes of the men as they stood near.

The voices struck the first chord softly together, and the music for the
dead went up to heaven, and was borne far across the torrent to the
distance in the arms of the hot wind. And one voice climbed above the
others, sweet and clear, as though to reach heaven itself; and another
sank deep and true and soft in the full close of the stave, as though it
would touch and comfort the heart that wa