When Elsalill came out of church it was still light enough for her
to see that one of those who walked before her left bloody
footprints in the snow.

"Who can it be so poor that he goes barefoot and leaves bloody
footprints in the snow?" she thought.

All those who walked before her seemed to be well-to-do folk. They
were neatly dressed and well shod.

But the red footprints were not old. Elsalill could see they were
made by one of the group that walked before her. "It is someone
who is footsore from a long journey," she thought. "God grant he
may not have far to go ere he find shelter and rest."

She had a strong desire to know who it was that had made this
weary pilgrimage, and she followed the footprints, though they led
her away from her home.

But suddenly she saw that all the church-goers had gone another
way and that she was alone in the street. Nevertheless, the blood-
red footprints were there as plain as before. "It is my poor
foster sister who is going before me," she thought; and she owned
to herself that she had guessed it all the time.

"Alas, my poor foster sister, I thought you went so lightly upon
earth that your feet did not touch the ground. But none among the
living can know how painful your pilgrimage must be."

The tears started to her eyes, and she sighed: "Could she but find