The light irony did not escape her. "I am only a goose-girl."

He felt disarmed. "What is your name?"

"Gretchen."

"What else?"

"Nothing else"--wistfully. "I never knew any father or mother."

"So?" This was easier for the other to understand. "But who taught you
to read?"

"A priest. Once I lived in the mountains, at an inn. He used to come in
evenings, when the snow was not too deep. He taught me to read and
write, and many things besides. I know that Italy has all the works of
art; that France has the most interesting history; that Germany has all
the philosophers, and America all the money," adding a smile. "I should
like to see America. Sometimes I find a newspaper, and I read it all
through."

"History?"

"A little, and geography."

"With all this wide learning you ought to be something better than a
tender of geese."

"It is honest work, and that is good."