On a sultry summer’s day, in the twelfth century, a little girl stood at a street door in one of the close, narrow alleys of a Flemish town. Her dress indicated poverty, though not neglect. Other children were playing near; she heard their voices, and looked at them for a few moments with curiosity and interest in her large blue eyes, but apparently with no wish to join their sports. Far more earnestly did she gaze to the right, where the long alley terminated in a broader street, from which a stream of intensely vivid sunlight poured, illuminating a corner of the shaded alley, with the Madonna in her niche, as well as the quaint carvings that adorned the house of rich Master Andreas the weaver. What would little Arlette have given to see one figure that she knew turn from the sunshine into the shadow!