In the midst
of her thinking she stood up, walked over to the glass, and clasped
the finest of the necklaces about her throat. . . . I suppose no
woman of this country ever wore the like of it--no, not in the days
when there were kings and queens of Leon. . . . Jeanne was not
beautiful, but she gazed at herself with eyes like those of a patient
in a fever. . . . Then of a sudden she felt the stones burning her as
though they had been red-hot coals. She plucked them off, and cast
herself on her knees beside the bed."
"You will remember that this was the Eve of Noel, when the children
of the parish help me to deck the _creche_ for the infant Christ. We
take down the images--see, there is St. Joseph, and there yonder Our
Lady, in the side chapel; the two oxen and a sheep are put away in
the vestry, in a cupboard full of camphor. We have the Three Kings
too. . . . In short, we put our hearts into the dressing-up.
By nightfall all is completed, and I turn the children out, reserving
some few last touches which I invent to surprise them when they come
again on Christmas morning. Afterwards I celebrate the Mass for the
Vigil, and then always I follow what has been a custom in this
parish, I believe, ever since the church was built.
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