Margaret French lingered in a bead-shop to make some purchases. Kitty
walked home alone, and Margaret, whose watchful affection never failed,
knew that she preferred it, and let her go her way.
The Ashes had rooms on the first bend of the Grand Canal looking south.
To reach them by land from the Piazza, Kitty had to pass through a
series of narrow streets, or
calles, broken by
campos, or small
squares, in which stood churches. As she passed one of these churches
she was attracted by the sound of gay music and by the crowd about the
entrance. Pushing aside the leathern curtain over the door, she found
herself in a great rococo nave, which blazed with lights and
decorations. Lines of huge wax candles were fixed in temporary holders
along the floor. The pillars were swathed in rose-colored damask, and
the choir was ablaze with flowers, and even more brilliantly lit, if
possible, than the rest of the church.
Kitty's Catholic training told her that an exposition of the Blessed
Sacrament was going on. Mechanically she dipped her fingers into the
holy water, she made her genuflection to the altar, and knelt down in
one of the back rows.
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