"Poor little chap! But I can help you in your present need. Let the Christmas Rose be a harbinger of joy to both of you. Give it to your sister, and bring her to this address within an hour. You shall have food and warmth, anyhow, and I will help you further."
Rica sped up the court to their miserable quarters. Marietta was watching anxiously for him at the window. He had been out all night, and she was almost in despair.
"Look, dearest, isn't it lovely?" he cried, as he rushed into the room and held up the Christmas Rose for her to see.
She took it in her thin fingers, and her eyes dwelt on its beauty until they filled with tears, which dropped on the rose's face and sank into her grateful heart.
"How exquisite, Rica! The Infant Jesus must have brought it from heaven."
Then her face gradually lost its transient glow, and in a fit of despair she threw the flower on the ground, and cried,
"But it cannot help us; of what good is it? I thought you went out to beg bread."
"Ah, Marietta! don't scorn it; be grateful all your life that I found the Christmas Rose. It has saved us!"
On hearing her brother's story she was overjoyed. She picked up the trembling flower, and hastily covering her head with a shawl, prepared to accompany Rica.