During its short stay in our room at the hotel, the erstwhile despised little tree met with an adulation that must have warmed the heart within its rough stem.  When nothing more than three coloured glass globes, a gilded walnut, and a gorgeous humming-bird with wings and tail of spun glass had been suspended by narrow ribbon from its branches, Rosine, the pretty Swiss chambermaid, chancing to enter the room with letters, was struck with admiration and pronounced it “tres belle!”

And Karl bringing in a fresh panier of logs when the adorning was complete, and silly little delightful baubles sparkled and twinkled from every spray, putting down his burden, threw up his hands in amazement and declared the arbre de Noel “magnifique!”

This alien Christmas-tree had an element all its own.  When we were searching for knick-knacks the shops were full of tiny Holy Babes lying cradled in waxen innocence in mangers of yellow corn.  One of these little effigies we had bought because they pleased us.  And when, the decoration of the tree being nearly finished, the tip of the centre stem standing scraggily naked called for covering, what more fitting than that the dear little Sacred Bebe in his nest of golden straw should have the place of honour?

It was late on Christmas Eve before our task was ended.  But next morning when Karl, carrying in our petit dejeuner, turned on the electric light, and our anxious gaze sought our work, we found it good.

Then followed a hurried packing of the loose presents; and, a fiacre having been summoned, the tree which had entered the room in all humility passed out transmogrified beyond knowledge.  Rosine, duster in hand, leant over the banisters of the upper landing to watch its descent.  Karl saw it coming and flew to open the outer door for its better egress.  Even the stout old driver of the red-wheeled cab creaked cumbrously round on his box to look upon its beauties.

[Illustration:  Alms and the Lady]

The Market was busy in the square as we rattled through.  From behind their battlemented wares the country mice waged wordy war with the town mice over the price of merchandise.  But on this occasion we were too engrossed to notice a scene whose picturesque humour usually fascinated us, for as the carriage jogged over the rough roads the poor little arbre de Noel palpitated convulsively.  The gewgaws clattered like castanets, as though in frantic expostulation, and the radiant spun-glass humming-birds quivered until we expected them to break from their elastic fetters and fly away.  The green and scarlet one with the gold-flecked wings fell on the floor and rolled under the seat just as the cab drew up at the great door of the school.

The two Red-Cross prisoners who, now that the dominating heat of fever had faded, were thinking wistfully of the forbidden joys of home, had no suspicion of our intention, and we wished to surprise them.  So, burdened with our treasure, we slipped in quietly.