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Thaddeus was sleeping beneath the window; himself hidden in the

shade, lying on his back, he wondered at the marvellous

apparition, which was directly above him, almost touching his

face. He did not know whether he was awake, or whether he was

imagining one of those dear, bright childish faces that we

remember to have seen in the dreams of our innocent years. The

little face bent down: he beheld, trembling with fear and joy,

alas! he beheld most clearly-he recalled and recognised now that

short, bright golden hair done up in tiny curl papers white as

snow, like silvery pods, which in the gleam of the sun shone like

a crown on the image of a saint.