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106ARIADNE.And there was no consolation possibleforher- — for her by whom Rome had been found anun,andLove had been found a destroyer. Toher all gods were dead: she had no faith onwhich to lean.The Farnesiani women who live immured inthe walls by the Viminal Hill,murmuring theirceaseless adoration of the Sacrament, wherenever daylight comes, or voices of friends areheard, or human faces seen, are less desolate,are more blessed than she, for in their livingsepulchre they have dreams of an eternal lifethat shall compensate for all.But to her this self-deception was notpossible.For her the Mother of Angels had no sigh orsmile.Yet there wasin her a great tenderness, whichhad been lacking before; suffering and lovehadbrought to her that sympathy which before hadbeen wanting. She had beenpure and truthful,and never unkind; but she had been hard asthe marble on which she wrought. Now nokindof pain was alien to her; the woe of others wassacred to her; when she spoke to the hungry