he could recognize any number of famous actresses. He had seen
her before. Where?... He did not know. Perhaps in some illustrated
weekly! Perhaps in some album of stage celebrities! Or maybe on the
cover of some match-box--a common medium of publicity for famous
European belles. Of one thing he was certain: at sight of that wonderful
face he felt as though he were meeting an old friend after a long
absence.

The recluse, in hopes of a perquisite, led the two women toward the door
of the hermitage, where his wife and daughter had appeared, to feast
their eyes on the huge diamonds sparkling at the ears of the strange
lady.

"Enter, _sinorita_" the rustic invited. "I'll show you the Virgin, the
Virgin _del Lluch_, you understand, the only genuine one. She came here
alone all the way from Majorca. People down in Palma claim they have the
real Virgin. But what can they say for themselves? They are jealous
because our Lady chose Alcira; and here we have her, proving that she's
the real one by the miracles she works."

He opened the door of the tiny church, which was as cool and gloomy as a
cellar. At the rear, on a baroque altar of tarnished gold, stood the
little statue with its hollow cloak and its black face.

Rapidly, by rote almost, the good man recited the history of the image.
The Virgin _del Lluch_ was the patroness of Majorca. A hermit had been
compelled to flee from there, for a reason no one had been able to
discover--perhaps to get away from some Saracen girl of those exciting,
war-like days! And to rescue the Virgin from profanation he brought her
to Alcira, and built this sanctuary for her. Later people from Majorca
came to return her to their island. But the celestial lady had taken a
liking to Alcira and its inhabitants. Over the water, and without even
wetting her feet, she came gliding back. Then the Majorcans, to keep
what had happened quiet, counterfeited a new statue that looked just
like the first. All this was gospel truth, and as proof, there lay the
original hermit buried at the foot of the altar; and there was the
Virgin, too, her face blackened by the sun and the salt wind on her
miraculous voyage over the sea.

The beautiful lady smiled slightly, as she listened. The maid was all
ears, not to lose a word of a language she but half understood, her
credulous peasant eyes traveling from the Virgin to the hermit and from
the hermit to the Virgin, plainly expressing the wonder she was feeling
at