raeulein, you have what is so rare in these days, good, healthy
hair. Would you believe, Fraeulein, that almost all the hair we see on
ladies' heads is false or padded? they wear a hat hidden under their
hair."

And yet, thought Manna, this hair will fall. A sudden terror shot
through her, as the maid passed her fingers through the loosened hair;
she fancied that she already heard the clipping of the scissors.

At last Manna was alone. After devoting herself for some time to
meditation and prayer, she began a letter to the Superior.

"We have celebrated to-day my birthday and my return to my parents'
house; but I long for my own birthday, which shall be my entrance into
the home of my Eternal Father--"

BOOK X.

CHAPTER I.

THE GIANT'S TOY.

The legend tells of that child-giant who took the ploughman, with
plough and horse, to be a plaything, gathered them up in his apron, and
carried them off.

This was the case with Manna. Her thoughts, by day and by night, had
been so far removed from the world, so elevated, and so victorious over
it, that all its doings seemed to her like children's plays. What is it
all for? To pass away the time? Children succeed in that; they
unconsciously persuade themselves that their dolls are alive; while
children of a larger growth play with their dolls, but look upon them
as shams.

Life is all idle play to them, and death alone is something serious.

It was with some such thought that Manna stood at the window, early on
the morning after Roland's birthday; she saw nothing of the world, and
yet she saw the whole world, far, far away.

So deeply impressed upon her memory were the tones of the convent-bell
which had awakened the pupils at the first blush of dawn, that they had
aroused her, this morning also, from her slumbers. She seemed to hear
it ringing as she slept. It was some time before she realized where she
was.

Thou art at home--where is thy home? who has built a house out of these
stones, has made this bed?

In the villa all were still sleeping. Manna alone was awake, and with
her the innumerable choirs of birds in the garden; and as the birds
outside mingled together their twittering songs, so a thousand thoughts
flitted through her mind.

She went into the park, and stood for a long time before the new gate
that opened upon the path to the little green cot