“Yes,” replied Margret shyly. She knew the name; it was one of the best in the town, but she had never seen the young man before. She had heard the girls saying how glad they were when handsome young Rohles came home from the army. But what should the poor cotter’s daughter have to do with a rich peasant’s son? What would the girls in Kyllburg say if they could see how friendly he was now with poor little Margret? She looked down at herself in sudden alarm. Was her dress all smooth and nice? Then her clear eyes were raised again in grateful confidence to her companion’s face. “I am Margret, from Balduin’s hut. You can see it from Kyllburg across the mountain.” “What did you want in Trier? Did you go to the Sacred Coat?” Yes, that was it! And now the whole story of her joys and sorrows gushed out over Margret’s lips. She was so happy to be able to tell somebody all the troubles and worries of her heart. In the excitement of her story she came over from her side of the street, close up to the young man, and laid her brown, work-hardened fingers on the fine cloth of his coat sleeve. “But now it will be all right,” she ended. “Mother will get well--Oh, the blessed Sacred Coat--” She laughed aloud in her joy and danced over the rain-pools in the street light as a young fawn. She did not notice that more than once during her story her listener’s lips had curled in a smile that was mainly good-natured, but just a little mocking. His eyes looked roguishly down upon her, resting on her sweet, young face, flushed with excitement. The open, brown stars of her eyes and his roguish, blue ones met in a long look. They rested there until the girl, blushing suddenly, dropped her eyes and the young man spoke with an embarrassed smile: “You’re a good girl, Margret. Give me your hand again.” The rain came down in torrents now. Margret drew her skirt up over her head, holding it together in front of her face. It seemed quite natural that the youth should lay his arm around her shoulder and guide her steps, for she wandered along half blinded by her garments, the tip of her nose alone peeping like a rosy point out of the black cloud. Evening had come already; the heavy rain-clouds brought the darkness earlier than usual. The earth had softened to mud and caught at their feet, but it was not uncomfortable to walk along in it. The young man strode out with long steps and the girl’s light feet tripped merrily beside him. What did the darkness and rain matter when it was so pleasant to chat together? A great secret joy grew up in Margret’s heart, a joy that seemed to run on before her, strewing the way with roses and painting the gray sky blue. The whole dirty, rainy world seemed changed into a shining paradise. What miracles the blessed Sacred Coat could work!