It was in the woods, near the Fairy Tree, that they first came to her. It was a Saturday, the day held sacred to the Holy Virgin, and Jeanne made a little pilgrimage through the forest up the hill path beyond Greux to the Oratory of Our Lady of Belmont. With her tiny savings the child had bought a candle to burn on the altar, and also carried wild flowers to make the holy place as fragrant as the forest at its doors. She finished her orisons, placed her candle on the altar and laid her flowers on the shrine, then slowly started down the hill path. Soon, finding herself near The Gooseberry Spring, she knelt upon its brink for a drink from its pellucid waters. It was very quiet in the clearing about the Spring, and over the grassy space lay a grateful shade. The day was warm, and after her drink Jeanne sat down on a natural seat formed by the gnarled roots of a tree. Her hands lay loosely, one reposing in the other in her lap. Her head drooped, and she lost herself in thought. All at once an odour, marvellously sweet, diffused itself on the air about her. It was a perfume the like of which she had never inhaled before. She lifted her head quickly, and drew a long deep breath, glancing around her for the blossoms that emitted such fragrance. As she did so there came a slight rustling of leaves among the trees, and from the Heavens there seemed to shoot downward a splendid effulgence. An unearthly light that flooded the place with glory. A look of rapture came into Jeanne's face. She rose, and crossed herself devoutly, then curtsied low as from the splendor there issued two shining figures, clad like queens, with golden crowns on their heads, wearing rich and precious jewels. The little maid could not look upon their faces by reason of the dazzling brightness that proceeded from them, but she knelt and kissed the hem of their garments. Gravely the saints returned her salutations, then spoke, naming each other to her. So soft and sweet were their tones that the sound filled her with a vague happiness, causing her to weep. "Daughter of God," they said, "rise, and listen. We come to teach thee to live well that thou mayest be prepared for thy mission." Further they spoke to her, but soon the brilliancy began to dim, and Jeanne caught at their garments. "Oh, do not leave me," she cried entreatingly. "Take me with you." "Nay," came the answer. "Thy time is not yet, Daughter of God. Thy work is yet to be done." [Illustration: OFTEN THEY APPEARED IN THE LITTLE GARDEN] With these words the gentle forms disappeared, and Jeanne flung herself upon the place where they had stood, weeping in an anguish of tenderness and longing.