Finally, two days before the great solemnity, there was a dress rehearsal. The angel looked lovely, but immediately on entering, he sank down on a bench sobbing out in an imploring voice:
“Oh, no, I shall never be able to do it, never!”
“Quite true, she never will be able to,” sighed Mother Ste. Sophie.
Forgetting for the moment my little friend’s grief, and wild with joy, pride, and assurance, I ran up to the platform and bounded on to the form on which the Angel Raphael had sunk down weeping.
“Oh, Mother, I know her part, shall I take her place for the rehearsal?”
“Yes, yes,” exclaimed voices from all sides.
“Oh, yes, you know it so well,” said Louise Buguet, and she wanted to put her band on my head.
“No, let me rehearse as I am, first,” I answered.
They began the second scene again and I came in carrying a long branch of willow.
“Fear nothing, Toby,” I commenced. “I will be your guide. I will remove from your path all thorns and stones.... You are overwhelmed with fatigue. Lie down and rest, for I will watch over you.”