The golden gates of knowledge had just opened to her; she saw a faint,
far-off glimpse of the Hesperides gardens within; of the dragon she had
never heard, and had no fear.

"Might I know your name?" she had asked him wistfully, as she had given
him the rosebud, and taken the volume in return that day.

"They call me Flamen."

"It is your name?"

"Yes, for the world. You must call me Victor, as other women do. Why do
you want my name?"

"Jeannot asked it of me."

"Oh, Jeannot asked it, did he?"

"Yes; besides," said Bébée, with her eyes very soft and very serious, and
her happy voice hushed,--"besides, I want to pray for you of course,
every day; and if I do not know your name, how can I make Our Lady
rightly understand? The flowers know you without a name, but she might
not, because so very many are always beseeching her, and you see she has
all the world to look after."

He had looked at her with a curious look, and had bade her farewell, and
let her go home alone that night.

Her work was quickly done, and by the light of the moon she spread her