What should she do now? Go back into the inn to all those many people, and the noise, and the screaming? Oh, no. It were far better to stay out here under God’s free heaven, where the stars looked down on one like kind eyes, and the crickets chirped amiably from the grass. Behind the bushes by the roadside she saw a little straw hut, which probably belonged to the overseer of the orchards. Margret peeped cautiously into the little door; the hut was empty and half falling to pieces. With a sigh of relief she crept in under the low roof. She took out her last piece of bread, and when she had eaten it she put her bundle under her head, drew up her skirt over her shoulders, and fell asleep. The sun stood shining and golden, well up in the sky, when Margret woke out of her deep sleep. She looked round, dazed; the preceding day seemed like a dream to her, and she herself seemed to be a stranger, some new and wonderful person. Yes, there lay mighty Trier, there was the Moselle, there was the inn from which she had fled--and she herself? Why, yes, she was little Margret, who was going down to pray to the Sacred Coat. It was high time to be up and doing. Hastily she slipped down to the river-bank behind a heavy thicket of willows where nobody could see her. She laid aside her dress, bathed her face, neck, and arms in the fresh, cool flood, and let the clear ripples flow over her naked feet. She braided up her long hair afresh, smoothing it with water, until it lay neat as wax behind her rosy ears. She fastened the silver arrow amid the braids, drew on her shoes and stockings, fastened her beautiful apron into place--and now she was ready. Groups of wanderers came along the road; many of them turned to look with pleasure after the young peasant girl who walked on in her springtime freshness and prettiness, with the light of pious faith in her eyes. If the bridge had been crowded yesterday, it was very much worse to-day. There was a running and a pushing about as in an ant-hill, the air trembled with the monotonous murmuring of “Sacred Coat, intercede for us.” One procession after the other dragged itself slowly over the ancient stone arches. “Sacred Coat, intercede for us. Sacred Coat, intercede for us.”