SHE WHO WORE A CROWN
in the air, the light dancing feet moved over the dew-laden grass.
Encircling, enclosing, they drew her into their swift circle of ecstasy—away from grief, from the sadness and anxiety of life, they drew her away with them.
Time fulfilled itself, and the day waned, and grief was as a flame of joy; the soul of Elèna lost itself in rapture.
Then they kissed her and departed.
"Farewell, dear queen of ours!"
"Farewell, dear sisters!"
Among the trees they disappeared; Elèna was alone.
Proudly she walked upon her homeward way; she wore her crown of flowers.
She told no one of her adventure in the forest, but so radiant was her face that her little sister smiled at her and said:
"Elèna looks a shining one to-day; one might think it was the day of her angel."
In the evening Elèna went to visit little Paul, a sick child, who had not long to live. She loved the boy because he was peaceful and serene and nothing disturbed the calmness of his mind. Sometimes at night she would wake and remember little Paul and weep because he must die so soon—and the grief in her heart was strangely mingled:
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