the finest of the necklaces about her throat. . . . I suppose no
woman of this country ever wore the like of it--no, 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