around her temples until it looked like a halo.

Mrs. Tiralla raised her head and glanced at her daughter; glanced at
her and started, forgetting for a time the thoughts which had raged
within her with such force that she had grown weak and incapable of
making any resistance. Ah, yes, there was Rosa and there was Rosa's
father. But Rosa was not the exact image of her father, all the same;
she had also inherited [Pg 44] something from her. Mrs. Tiralla
suddenly felt twenty years younger as if by magic. She pictured herself
in the priest's quiet study and heard once more the wonderful stories
with which he had captivated her so irresistibly. She had always
listened to him in silence, but she had grown hot and red. She still
felt how the blood used to rush to her head as though she had been
drinking wine.

Oh, yes, the girl must go to a convent, there was no doubt about that.
They would cut off her curly hair, that gleamed in the lamplight, when
she took the veil; the linen band would cover her brow and her cheek.
Only her small nose and her blue eyes would be seen. Oh, how sweet Rosa
would look in a nun's dress. She would blossom like a rose in the
Saviour's garden. Mrs. Tiralla was seized with a sudden love for her
daughter, and she went up to her and laid her hand on her head.

Rosa was very happy. Her mother had even kissed her when she had said
good night, and she felt as if a flame of light had flashed through
her. She did not care to hear any of Marianna's stories to-night,
although she generally begged for some. "I only want to pray," she
said. And she prayed that her mother might always smile at her. She
admired her so, her slender figure, her beautiful hair, and her velvety
eyes. Nobody was as beautiful as her mother, only the Holy Virgin.

Rosa's eyes closed whilst she was still praying, and in her slumber she
suddenly saw the Holy Mother standing by her bedside. She had exactly
the same face as her own mother and wore the same dress, a dark blue
skirt and a bright red, striped blouse. And the Holy Mother bent over
her, so that she felt her warm breath on her cheek; she was probably
listening [Pg 45] if she were asleep. Then the Holy Mother left her and
listened at the bed where Marianna had been snoring for a long time;
and then she went softly out of the room. Oh, how beautiful she was.
The little girl fell soundly asleep with a prayer on her lips.

But Marianna was not asleep, even though she had pretend