s but one thing that satisfies the
soul of man. Neither in earth nor in Heaven is any man satisfied with
aught else. My child, dost thou know what that is?"

Belasez looked up, her own face working a little now.

"You mean," she said, "the Man whom ye call Christ."

"I mean Him."

"I know nothing about Him." And Belasez resumed her embroidery, as if
that were of infinitely greater consequence. "Dost thou know much about
happiness?"

"Happiness!" exclaimed the girl. "I know what mirth is. Do you mean
that? Or, I know what it is to feel as if one cared for nothing. Is
that your meaning?"

"Happiness," said Bruno, "is what thy King meant when he said, `I shall
be satisfied with it.' Dost thou know that?"

Belasez drew a long breath, and shook her head sadly.

"No," she said. "I have never known that."

"Because thou hast never known Jesus Christ."

"I know He said, `I am the life,'" responded the girl slowly. "And life
is not worth much. Perhaps it might be,--if one were satisfied."

"Poor child! Is life not worth much to thee?" answered the priest in a
pitying tone. "And thou art very young--not much over twenty."

"I am under twenty. I am just eighteen."

Once more Bruno's face was convulsed.

"Just eighteen!" he said. "Yes--Licorice's child! _Yet_ she had no
pity. Aye me--just eighteen!"

"Do you know my mother?" said Belasez in accents of mingled surprise and
curiosity.

"I did--eighteen years ago."

And Bruno rose hastily, as if he wished to dismiss the subject.
Margaret dropped on her knees and requested his blessing, which he gave
as though his thoughts were far away: and then he left the room slowly,
gazing on Belasez to the last.

This was the first, but not by any means the last, interview between
Father Bruno and the Jewish maiden. A month later, Doucebelle asked
Belasez how she liked him.

"I do not like him; I love him," said Belasez, with more warmth than
usual.

"What a confession!" answered Doucebelle, playfully.

"Oh, not that sort of love!" responded Belasez with a tinge of scorn.
"I think it must be the sort that we can take into Heaven with us."

The next morning, Levina announced to the Countess, in a tone of
gratified spite, that two persons were in the hall--an old man, unknown
to her, and the young Jew, Delecresse. He had come for his sister.

Belasez received the news of her recall at first with a look of blank
dismay, and then with a shower of pass