"I wish but two things," she said. "I wish to be a boy, only I fear it
is too late for that. The Bishop thinks so. And I wish to see my
mother."

And these being beyond his gift, and not contained in the pack he had
fastened to his shoulders, he only shook his head and took his cautious
way toward freedom.

Having tried song and a good deed, Clotilde went back again to her room,
stepping over the page, who had curled himself up in a ball, like a
puppy, and still slept. She crossed her hands on her breast and raised
her eyes as she had been taught.

"Now, O Lord," she said, "I have tried song and I have tried a good
deed. I wish to see my mother."

Perhaps it was merely coincidence that the level rays of the morning sun
just then fell on the crucifix that hung on the wall, and that although
during all the year it seemed to be but of wood and with closed eyes,
now it flashed as with life and the eyes were open.

"He was one of Your people," she said to the crucifix, "and by now he is
down the hill."




[Illustration: Chapter Two]