"Neither the eyes of man nor priest--thou sayest well. How did she see
it?"

"She was lying in a soft sleep, when something like a pain struck through
her eyes, and she waked. There upon the wall over the shrine was the
white arrow with the tuft of fire. It came and went three times, and then
she called me."

"What tale told the arrow to thy Fanchon, Gustave?"

"That for the child which cometh into the world a life must go from the
world."

"The world is wide and souls are many, Gustave."

"Most true; but her heart was heavy, and it came upon her that the child
might be spared and herself taken."

"Is not that the light of thy home--yonder against the bunch of firs?"

"Yes, yes, good father, they have put a light in the window. See, see,
there are two lights. Ah, merci, merci, they both live! She hath had her
hour! That was the sign our mother promised me."

"Michel's wife--ah, yes, Michel's wife! Blessed be God. A moment,
Gustave; let us kneel here . . ."

. . . "Monsieur, did you not see a white arrow shoot down the sky as the
prayer ended?"