"That was two stars shining through the door, my son."

"How could there be snow flying and stars shining too, father?"

"It was just drift-snow on a light wind, but the stars were shining
above, Dominique."

The man's voice was anxious and unconvincing, his eyes had a hungry,
hunted look. The legend of the White Swan had to do with the passing of a
human soul. The swan had come in--would it go out alone? He touched the
boy's hand--it was hot with fever; he felt the pulse--it ran high; he
watched the face--it had a glowing light. Something stirred within him,
and passed like a wave to the farthest courses of his being. Through his
misery he had touched the garment of the Master of Souls. As though a
voice said to him there, "Someone hath touched me," he got to his feet,
and, with a sudden blind humility, lit two candles, placed them on a
shelf in a corner before a porcelain figure of the Virgin, as he had seen
his wife do. Then he picked a small handful of fresh spruce twigs from a
branch over the chimney, and laid them beside the candles. After a short
pause he came slowly to the head of the boy's bed. Very solemnly he
touched the foot of the Christ on the cross with the tips of his fingers,
and brought them to his lips with an indescribable reverence. After a
moment, standing with eyes fixed on the face of the crucified figure, he
said, in a shaking voice:

"Pardon, bon Jesu! Sauvez mon enfant! Ne me laissez pas seul!"

The boy looked up with eyes again grown unnaturally heavy, and said: