Her want of knowledge in such matters was so
complete that her American friend, who, no doubt, took it for
granted that she had been brought up in the religion of the
country, never even guessed at it, not imagining that a child
could remain so utterly uninstructed in the simple facts and
histories; and, somehow, Madelon divined this, and began to
have a shy reluctance in asking questions which would betray
an unsuspected ignorance. "This is such or such a Madonna,"
the artist would say; "there you see St. Elizabeth, and that
is St. John the Baptist, you know." Or he would point out St.
Agnes, or St. Cecilia, or St. Catherine, as the case might be.
"Who was St. Catherine?" Madelon ventured to ask one day.
"Did you never hear of her?" he answered. "Well then, I will
tell you all about her. There were, in fact, two St.
Catherines, but this one here, who, you see, has a wheel,
lived long before the other. There once dwelt in Alexandria a
lovely and accomplished maiden--" And he would no doubt have
related to her the whole of the beautiful old mystical legend;
but her father, who happened to be with them that day,
interrupted him.
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