arches he had planned.

And so the still Passion week wore on.

Until once more, the joy-bells pealed out on the blessed Easter morning.

The city was full of festivals. The rich were in their richest holiday
raiment, and few of the poor were so poor as not to have some sign of
festivity in their humble dress and on their frugal tables.

Mother Magdalis was surprised by finding at her bedside a new dress
such as befitted a good burgher's daughter, sent secretly the night
before from Ursula by Hans and Gottlieb, with a pair of enchanting new
crimson shoes for little Lenichen, which all but over-balanced the
little maiden with the new sense of possessing something which must be
a wonder and a delight to all beholders.

The archduke and the beautiful Italian archduchess had arrived the
night before, and were to go in stately procession to the cathedral.
And Gottlieb was to sing in the choir, and afterward, on the Monday, to
sing an Easter greeting for the archduchess at the banquet in the great
town-hall.

The mother's heart trembled with some anxiety for the child.

But the boy's was only trembling with the great longing to be allowed
to sing once more his hosannas to the blessed Savior, among the
children.

It was given him.

At first the eager voice trembled for joy, in the verse he had to sing
alone, and the choir-master's brows were knitted with anxiety. But it
cleared and steadied in a moment, and soared with a fullness and
freedom none had ever heard in it before, filling the arches of the
cathedral and the hearts of all.

And the beautiful archduchess bent over to see the child, and her soft,
dark eyes were fixed on his face, as he sang, until they filled with
tears; and, afterward, she asked who the mother of that little angel
was.

But the child's eyes were fixed on nothing earthly, and his heart was
listening for another voice--the voice all who listen for shall surely
hear.

And it said in the heart of the child, that day: "Suffer the little one
to come unto me. Go in peace. Thy sins are forgiven."

A happy, sacred evening they spent that Easter in the hermit's cell,
the mother and the two children, the boy singing his best for the
little nest, as before for the King of kings.

Still, a little anxiety lingered in the mother's heart about the pomp
of the next day.

But she need not have feared.

When the archduchess had asked for the mother of the little chorister
with the heavenly voice, t