Few tourists climbed to their dark fastness, and of those who came none had ever shone with such blinding radiance of white and gold.

It was certain that the lovely lady was none other than the Madonna herself, and the child she had brought was some baby angel.  The man alone was mortal.  He had perhaps been bidden to show la bella Madonna the way to Eze.

Rosemary, shy but happy, began giving out the toys, diving with both hands at once into the baskets which the fairy father held.  Trumpets, bags of marbles, tops and furry animals for the boys, according to their age; (oh, Rosemary was a good judge, and never hesitated once!) Dolls for the girls, dolls by the dozen, dolls by the legion; and sweets for all.

As the amazed children received their gifts, they fell respectfully back, as if they had received an order to give place to their companions, and others came forward, open mouthed, large eyed, ready to fall upon their knees if but one of their number should set an example.

Still there were toys left, toys in abundance; the wondrous benefactors passed slowly on, always going up, up into the huddled village streets—­tunnelled in rock or arched with stone, where eager, astonished faces peered from the mystery of shadowed doorways, and the hum of joy and admiration swelled to a sound like the murmur of the sea.

Of grown folk there were not many.  A few mothers with brown babies in their arms; a few mumbling crones, and bent old men with faces like strange masks; but the flow of children never ceased.

As the children of Hamlin followed the Pied Piper to the sea, so the black browed children of Eze followed the Christmas visitors from crooked street to crooked street, up to the castle ruins and back again.  They did not shout as they took their gifts; but still the murmur ran from mouth to mouth:  “Bella Madonna, bella Madonna.”

At the end of an enchanted hour, when there was not a child in Eze who had not both hands full, the benefactors turned to go, with empty baskets.  Massed on the plateau above the mule-path, the whole population of the village stood to watch them down the steep descent.  As they went, the church bells of Eze boomed out, calling all pious souls, young and old, to vespers; and as if the loosened tongues of the bells loosened also the tongues of the children, at last there arose a cry.

“Come again, Bella Madonna and little angel, come again.  We shall pray to see you next Christmas Day, Bella Madonna and little angel.  Don’t forget, next Christmas Day.”

* * * * *

“I’m perfectly happy, dearest,” said Rosemary, when once more they sat in the car, spinning back from the shaded eyrie to the fair world where the sunshine lay.

The others did not speak, but the same thought was in their hearts.

When you are positively bursting with happiness the best outlet for the surplus quantity is to benefit somebody else; and there is no time like Christmas for a successful experiment.