n her glossy hair, or the cap starched to
such absolute perfection, for so much of her youth and beauty had
vanished with that scar--a deep blue line from brow to chin--that no
loving arrangement of the hair by Margotte's deft fingers could hide.

So Margotte said to me that evening, dropping her knitting into her
apron pocket: "I will tell you the story of the wolf, madame. Leontine
is out, and it is a grand story--a story I should like you to hear."

"It was night," said Margotte, "a cruel, cold winter night, such as we
who live amongst the mountains have terrible cause to dread, for it
means hunger and cold--sometimes absolute famine. It means the children
crying for food when there is none to give them, and the wolves howling
in the distance. Ah! those wolves, madame, how they make one shudder
with their monotonous howls, that seem so near at first, and then die
away into the far distance!

"Well, it was night, as I have said, and the baby was asleep, as it
might be here, and Leontine was knitting on the hearth, and Marcelle, a
friend of Leontine's, was chattering to her, kneeling on the stones, and
the door was on the latch.

"That was the mischief, you see; but Leontine was young then, and
Marcelle was a giddy, thoughtless chatterer, and she had run in with her
shawl over her head for an hour's talk. Leontine has told me of it so
often that I almost seem to see the two girls crouching by the fire that
sent bright and flickering reflections on to the snow outside.

"Suddenly, as they talked, there came distinctly to them the howling of
the wolves across the snow. Marcelle put her hands over her ears and
shuddered. Leontine knelt up and stirred the fire.

"'Come closer, my friend,' she said; 'it is a dreary sound. Thank God,
we are safe here!'

"'Are we safe, do you think?' asked Marcelle, with chattering teeth. 'I
dare not go home to-night. Will your mother let me stay here, Leontine?'

"'Surely,' said Leontine.

"She was so brave, my sister, my dear, dear sister, madame, and so
gentle! she took Marcelle's head upon her knee, and put her knitting
aside to soothe her terror.

"'We are quite safe, Marcelle,' she said, 'and mother will soon be back.
It is a dreary night.'

"It _was_ a dreary night, dark and still and terribly cold; the white
flakes were falling slowly to the earth, and covering the mother's
footsteps on the path.

"Leontine walked over to the window and looked out; the fire-light was
da