o, not in the days
when there were kings and queens of Leon. . . . Jeanne was not
beautiful, but she gazed at herself with eyes like those of a patient
in a fever. . . . Then of a sudden she felt the stones burning her as
though they had been red-hot coals. She plucked them off, and cast
herself on her knees beside the bed."

"You will remember that this was the Eve of Noel, when the children
of the parish help me to deck the _creche_ for the infant Christ. We
take down the images--see, there is St. Joseph, and there yonder Our
Lady, in the side chapel; the two oxen and a sheep are put away in
the vestry, in a cupboard full of camphor. We have the Three Kings
too. . . . In short, we put our hearts into the dressing-up.
By nightfall all is completed, and I turn the children out, reserving
some few last touches which I invent to surprise them when they come
again on Christmas morning. Afterwards I celebrate the Mass for the
Vigil, and then always I follow what has been a custom in this
parish, I believe, ever since the church was built. I blow out all
the candles but two, and remain here, seated, until the day breaks,
and the folk assemble to celebrate the first Mass of Noel. Eh?
It is discipline, but I bring rugs, and I will not say that all the
time my eyes are wide open.

"Certainly I closed them on this night of which I am telling. For I
woke up with a start, and almost, you might say, in trepidation, for
it seemed to me that someone was moving in the church. My first
thought was that some mischievous child had crept in, and was playing
pranks with my _creche_, and to that first I made my way. Beyond the
window above it rode the flying moon, and in the rays of it what did
I see?

"The figures stood as I had left them. But above the manger, over
the shoulders of the Virgin, blazed a rope of light--of diamonds such
as I have never seen nor shall see again--all flashing green and blue
and fieriest scarlet and piercing white. Of the Three Kings, also
each bore a gift, two of them a necklace apiece, and the third a
ring. I stood before the miracle, and my tongue clave to the roof of
my mouth, and then a figure crept out of the shadows and knelt in the
pool of moonlight at my feet. It was Jeanne. She caught at the
skirt of my soutane, and broke into sobbing.

"'My father, let the Blessed One wear them ever, or else help me to
give them back!'

"You will now guess, monsieur, on what business I have bee