book on her lap in the porch of the hut and began her new delight.

The children had come and pulled at her skirts and begged her to play.
But Bébée had shaken her head.

"I am going to learn to be very wise, dear," she told them; "I shall not
have time to dance or to play."

"But people are not merry when they are wise, Bébée," said Franz, the
biggest boy.

"Perhaps not," said Bébée: "but one cannot be everything, you know,
Franz."

"But surely, you would rather be merry than anything else?"

"I think there is something better, Franz. I am not sure; I want to find
out; I will tell you when I know."

"Who has put that into your head, Bébée?"

"The angels in the cathedral," she told them; and the children were awed
and left her, and went away to play blind-man's-buff by themselves, on
the grass by the swan's water.

"But for all that the angels have said it," said Franz to his sisters, "I
cannot see what good it will be to her to be wise, if she will not care
any longer afterwards for almond gingerbread and currant cake."

It was the little tale of "Paul and Virginia" that he had given her to