better to learn what was
going on. Then we heard a faint, cracked, tinkling bell, coming shrill
upon clear and distinct from all other sounds. 'Holy Mother!' exclaimed
my landlord, 'the Poor Clares!'

He snatched up the fragments of my meal, and crammed them into my
hands, bidding me follow. Down-stairs he ran, clutching at more food,
as the women of his house eagerly held it out to him; and in a moment
we were in the street, moving along with the great current, all tending
towards the Convent of the Poor Clares. And still, as if piercing our
ears with its inarticulate cry, came the shrill tinkle of the bell. In
that strange crowd were old men trembling and sobbing, as they carried
their little pittance of food; women with the tears running down their
cheeks, who had snatched up what provisions they had in the vessels in
which they stood, so that the burden of these was in many cases much
greater than that which they contained; children, with flushed faces,
grasping tight the morsel of bitten cake or bread, in their eagerness
to carry it safe to the help of the Poor Clares; strong men--yea, both
Anversois and Austrians--pressing onwards with set teeth, and no word
spoken; and over all, and through all, came that sharp tinkle--that cry
for help in extremity.

We met the first torrent of people returning with blanched and piteous
faces: they were issuing out of the convent to make way for the
offerings of others. 'Haste, haste!' said they.

'A Poor Clare is dying! A Poor Clare is dead for hunger! God forgive
us, and our city!'

We pressed on. The stream bore us along where it would. We were carried
through refectories, bare and crumbless; into cells over whose doors
the conventual name of the occupant was written. Thus it was that I,
with others, was forced into Sister Magdalen's cell. On her couch lay
Gisborne, pale unto death, but not dead. By his side was a cup of
water, and a small morsel of mouldy bread, which he had pushed out of
his reach, and could not move to obtain. Over against his bed were
these words, copied in the English version: 'Therefore, if thine enemy
hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink.'

Some of us gave him of our food, and left him eating greedily, like
some famished wild animal. For now it was no longer the sharp tinkle,
but that one solemn toll, which in all Christian countries tells of the
passing of the spirit out of earthly life into eternity; and again a
murmur gathered and gr