She seemed to float on air, to have wings like the swallows, to hear beautiful musk all around.

She felt for her beads, and said aves of praise.

God was so good.
It was quite night when she reached the street, and sought the number of his house.

She spoke his name softly, and trembling very much with joy, not with any fear, but it seemed to her too sacred a thing ever to utter aloud.
An old man looked out of a den by the door, and told her to go straight up the stairs to the third floor, and then turn to the right.

The old man chuckled as he glanced after her, and listened to the wooden shoes pattering wearily up the broad stone steps.
Bebee climbed them--ten, twenty, thirty, forty.