between you. I thought of it all by myself. Let go, Biagio; let
go, Luca!" So they whispered and tussled, pulling three different ways.
The Lady's voice broke over them like silver rain. "Let him who thought
of the kind act give me the milk," she said; so young Astorre on his
knees handed her the horn cup, and through the cracks of his fingers
watched her drink every drop.

That done, the cup returned with a smile piercingly sweet, the Lady
rose. Saints on thrones, how tall she was! "The _bimbo_ will thank you
for this to-morrow, as I do now," said she. "Goodnight, my friends, and
may the good God have mercy upon all souls!" She turned to go the way
she had come, but Astorre, covering his eyes with one hand, crept
forward on three legs (as you might say) and plucked the hem of her
robe up, and kissed it. She stooped to lay a hand upon his head. "Never
kiss my robe, Astorre," said she--and how under Heaven did she know his
name if she were not _what she was_?--"never kiss my robe, but get up
and let me kiss you." Well of Truth! to think of it! Up gets Astorre,
shaking like a nun in a fit, and the Lady bent over him and, as sure as
you are you, kissed his forehead. Astorre told his village next day as
they sat round him in a ring, and he on the wellhead as plain to be seen
as this paper, that he felt at that moment as if two rose-leaves had
dropped from heaven upon his forehead. Slowly then, very slowly and
smoothly (as they report), did the Lady move away towards the
peach-trees whence she had come. In the half light there was--for by
this it was the hour before dawn--they saw her take a peach from one of
the trees. She stayed to eat it. Then she walked over the crest of the
orchard and disappeared. As soon as they dared, when the light had come,
they looked for her over that same crest, but could see nothing
whatever. With pale, serious faces the three youths regarded each other.
There was no doubt as to what had happened--a miracle! a miracle!

With one consent then--since this was plainly a Church affair--they ran
to their parish priest, Don Gasparo. He got the whole story at last;
nothing could shake them; no detail was wanting. Thus it was: the
Blessed Virgin, carrying in her arms the Santissimo Bambino Gesu, had
come through the peach-trees, asked for and eaten of their food, prayed
for them aloud to Messer Domeneddio himself, and kissed Astorre on the
forehead. As they were on their knees, she walked away, stopped