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She had only now departed; the little gate, freshly touched, was

still trembling; near the gate could be seen on the sand the

print of a small foot that had been without shoe or stocking-on

the fine dry sand, white as snow; the print was clear but light;

you guessed that it was left in quick running by the tiny feet of

some one who scarce touched the ground.

The traveller stood long in the window gazing and musing,

breathing in the fragrance of the flowers. He bent down his face

to the violet plants; he followed the paths with his curious eyes

and again gazed on the tiny footprints; he kept thinking of them

and trying to guess whose they were. By chance he raised his

eyes, and there on the wall stood a young girl-her white garment

hid her slender form only to the breast, leaving bare her

shoulders and her swan's neck. Such attire a Lithuanian maiden is

wont to wear only early in the day; in such she is never seen by

men. So, though there was no witness near, she had folded her

arms on her breast, in order to add a veil to her low garment.

Her hair, not spread out in loose ringlets but twisted in little

knots and wrapped in small white curl-papers, marvellously

adorned her head, for in the sunlight it shone like a crown on

the image of a saint.