Odette smiled at her. “Yes, and is it not beautiful? It was given to me by my mother before she went away to India; I do not remember her giving it me, for I was then only a tiny creature. But Aunt Valerie has often told me that when mamma hung it around my neck, she cried, and kissed me, and told me to love the Holy Virgin, for that faith, and love, were the only things that were beautiful in life.” The woman looked at her sadly. “I will keep it in memory of you, little one,” she said, “It may bring me luck,” and she got up as if to go. “Will you promise never to do things that the Holy Mary would not approve of?” asked Odette, taking the woman’s hand, and gazing earnestly into her eyes. “I will try, little one,” the woman said, and she stooped and kissed Odette passionately; the warm tears falling from her eyes upon Odette’s upturned face. Far away in the East, the day began to Dawn. A flush of yellow like ripe fruit spread slowly across the sky. The birds in the trees piped drowsily to one another, and the bent cyclamens by the river-side lifted their fragrant hearts in rapture to the rising sun. The woman and Odette stood side by side watching the breaking day, then, as a clock struck away across the meadows from some church tower, the woman shivered, and looked down the long white road that followed the river bank. “I must go,” she said. Odette looked at her. “Where to?” she asked. “I don’t know,” answered the woman. “I am going to try to find work--honest work,” and taking Odette in her arms she kissed her again and again. “Good-bye, little one,” she said, “And since you pray to the Holy Mother, perhaps sometimes you will pray for me.” And then, with a tired, sad step, the woman walked slowly away down the long white road, her shadow falling beside her as though it were her soul. “Oh, Holy Virgin, Mother of Our Lord Seigneur Christ, I thank Thee for having brought me here this night,” prayed the little Odette. “Take into Thy protection, dear Mother, this poor woman who has need of Thee, and bring her safely to Thy beautiful Kingdom in Heaven, for the sake of our Lord Jesus. Amen.” Then little Odette returned thoughtfully to the great grey chateau. And as she passed down the avenue of over-arching limes a thousand thrushes sang deliriously amidst the branches. But Odette felt somehow changed since last she passed the castle gates. She felt older. For suddenly she realized that Life was not a dream; she realized for the first time that Life was cruel, that Life was sad, that beyond the beautiful garden in which she dwelt, many millions of people were struggling to live, and sometimes in the struggle for life one failed--like the poor woman by the river bank. And Odette turned as she walked, and looked behind her, to where, by the roadside, and dying beneath the golden sun, the red roses that she had gathered for the Holy Mother, shone in the morning light like drops of crimson blood.