Part 22 (2/2)
”A child that has been following us,” said Porphyrius. ”She does not belong to our neighbourhood. I never saw her before.”
”I thank you, my child,” said Donatus. ”You refresh the weary; blessed are the merciful.”
”Let me wet your handkerchief, to cool you,” said the girl, carefully taking the bandage from his eyes. He instinctively covered the wounds with his hand, but she did not heed it, for she was wholly absorbed in her helpful zeal. She wetted the linen with the water in her bottle.
”It is all b.l.o.o.d.y,” she said. ”Have you hurt yourself?”
”Yes,” he replied hardly audibly. She folded it into a square pad and laid it on his head; but he still kept his eyes covered that the child might not be frightened.
”That will do you good,” said she, and then she took some of her wood-strawberries and put them into his mouth. ”There, eat them; I picked them for you, and you--the other one, have some too--but the best are for Donatus.”
”Do you know me then?” asked Donatus in surprise.
”Certainly I know you. You are the angel I saw that day.”
”Are you in your right senses, child? When was I ever an angel?”
”Yes--don't you remember--that day when they made you a priest?”
”Oh! I never was farther from being an angel than in that hour,”
murmured Donatus, and he let his hand fall from his face.
”But you had wings then; why have you lost them?” continued the girl.
”Child, you are dreaming, I never had wings.”
”I thought I saw you with wings. But there is something different in you now--” she studied him attentively; suddenly she started up, ”Oh--now I know--you have not got any eyes?”
Donatus clasped his hands over his face; the child stood by pale and trembling, and tear after tear forced its way through her long lashes and fell on her little clasped hands. ”Poor, poor man!” she sighed from the depths of her child's heart. Brother Porphyrius had to turn away his head, he was so deeply moved.
Donatus started up. ”Let us go on,” he said hastily.
”I will go with you,” said the little girl.
”Why, where are you going?” asked Porphyrius.
”Wherever you go.”
”Do you know then whither we are going?” asked Donatus.
”No.”
”Then how can you know that our roads are the same?”
”Your road is my road, where you are I will be--and when you stop I will stop.”
”Ruth!” exclaimed Porphyrius involuntarily.
”Child, what has come over you!” said Donatus. ”What do you want with me?”
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