Had she been conscious of what she said then? Virgilia
thought not.
"Mother," she said, "thy many years of life have brought to thee
wisdom. Should one tell everything to one's husband? Even when it may
be dangerous?"
The Old One held a yellow thread suspended from her ivory hook and
looked keenly at Virgilia.
"Thou hast a secret, my child?"
"Yes, mother."
"One of which thou art ashamed?"
"No, no. But it involves others."
The bricks were sprinkled with sand. Virgilia stopped and drew a fish
in the sand. She had for some time suspected that the Old One was a
Christian. If she were, she would recognize the symbol of Christ, the
"Icthus." If she were not, it would do no harm.
"And thou, too, art a little fish," murmured the Old One. "Thanks be
to His holy name, when the Lord Christ was born, I was a Princess in
the court of Herod, the King, who was sore afraid, because it was told
him that a new King had come to reign over Israel. The angels sang at
His birth and the kings from the East brought presents of frankincense
and myrrh.
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