of marble. I
saw no one else, and wondered that there was no relative or friend to
watch by the corpse; then it occurred to me that they must all have gone
to break the news to Jairus. I sat gazing at the girl's large eyelids
that lay heavily on the eyes but were not quite closed; at the wax-like
features, so beautifully chiselled; and the lock of brown hair, the only
living texture, in striking contrast with the cold sculptured pillow and
with the stiff rigid fingers that rested on the border of the shroud.

"I felt very tired and leant back, wondering what the colour of her eyes
might be. Then--was I dreaming?--I suddenly became aware that they were
violet, like the colour of a transparent amethyst. She had opened them,
and was looking quietly and unconcernedly at me.

"'J'ai bien dormi,' she said, and I, at one bound, leaped back to life
and its realities.

"'Tiens, oui,' I said, 'you look all the better for it. Now what have
you been dreaming about, if I may ask?'

"'Oh, about the bon Jesus: I love to dream of Him, it makes me so
strong.'

"'And what is your name, mon enfant?'

"'Madeleine, monsieur.'

"I was truly glad to know, for I always regretted the apostle had not
told us the name of the daughter of Jairus. Well, I got Madeleine to
tell me a little of her history, and the good sisters gave me the rest.
Her father was a poor labourer, and she had been in the hospital for the
last nine months under treatment for hip disease. She was the sweetest
and most lovable of patients, they told me.

"When I went away I said:--

"'Is there anything you want? Shall I bring you a book when I come
to-morrow?'

"'No, not a book; bring me a rose, please, a red rose.'

"Well, you can fancy I thought of nothing else but the Jairus's daughter
I had found. The next morning I brought her three of the reddest roses I
could find, and she beamed with happiness as she fondled them.

"'Oh, _ma soeur_,' she said to the nurse, 'you will let me keep them
just here by my side; they smell so sweet, and they can't hurt me now
the windows are all open. I want to nurse them myself, and when they are
tired of living in a glass, I will keep them between the leaves of my
prayer-book,' and presently she added: 'I am going to read them all day.
You know, monsieur, I can't read really; that's why I didn't want you to
bring me a book.'"

Here I interrupted Claude with the question--

"How old is she?"

"How old? Well, really it ne