The monks swept out, with a swinging of incense and a low chanting. One only remained, putting out candles about the altar. Valentine closed her missal and turned to leave. The sun was streaming through the gold and opal window in a dazzling shaft of light, it fell over her face and blinded her for a second. The next, she looked round to see the solitary monk behind her. His head was hidden in his cowl, his arms folded, he passed her without looking up. "Count Conrad is in Milan," he said, under his breath, and sil…
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