tice of them; and the troop of boys, with the master at their head,
started for the church.

[Illustration]

It was fine in the church, which was resplendent with wax-candles; and
the scholars, excited by the pleasant warmth, profited by the noise of
the organ and the singing to talk to each other in a low voice. They
boasted of the fine suppers that were waiting for them at home. The son
of the burgomaster had seen, before he went out, a monstrous goose that
the truffles marked with black spots like a leopard. At the house of the
first citizen there was a little fir-tree in a wooden box, from whose
branches hung oranges, sweetmeats, and toys. And the cook of the first
citizen had pinned behind her back the two strings of her cap, as she
only did on her days of inspiration when she was sure of succeeding with
her famous sugar-candy. And then the scholars spoke, too, of what the
Christ-child would bring to them, of what he would put in their shoes,
which they would, of course, be very careful to leave in the chimney
before going to bed. And the eyes of those little chaps, lively as a
parcel of mice, sparkled in advance with the joy of seeing in their
imagination pink paper bags of burnt almonds, lead soldiers drawn up in
battalions in their boxes, menageries smelling of varnished wood, and
magnificent jumping-jacks covered with purple and bells.

Little Wolff knew very well by experience that his old miserly aunt
would send him supperless to bed. But in the simplicity of his soul, and
knowing that he had been all the year as good and industrious as
possible, he hoped that the Christ-child would not forget him, and he,
too, looked eagerly forward by-and-by to putting his wooden shoes in the
ashes of the fireplace.

The midnight mass concluded, the faithful went away, anxious for supper,
and the band of scholars, walking two by two after their teacher, left
the church.

Now, under the porch, sitting on a stone seat under a Gothic niche, a
child was sleeping--a child covered by a robe of white linen, and whose
feet were bare, notwithstanding the cold. He was not a beggar, for his
robe was new and nice, and near him on the ground were seen, lying in a
cloth, a square, a hatchet, a pair of compasses, and the other tools of
a carpenter's apprentice. Under the light of the stars, his face, with
its closed eyes, bore an expression of divine sweetness, and his long
locks of golden hair seemed like an _aureole_ about his head