Part 144 (2/2)

Clement held his breath.

He half closed his eyes lest they should frighten the airy guest.

Down came robin on the floor.

When there he went through his pantomime of astuteness; and then, pim, pim, pim, with three stiff little hops, like a ball of worsted on vertical wires, he was on the hermit's bare foot. On this eminence he swelled, and contracted again, with ebb and flow of feathers; but Clement lost this, for he quite closed his eyes and scarce drew his breath in fear of frightening and losing his visitor. He was content to feel the minute claw on his foot. He could but just feel it, and that by help of knowing it was there.

Presently a little flirt with two little wings, and the feathered busy-body was on the breviary again.

Then Clement determined to try and feed this pretty little fidget without frightening it away. But it was very difficult. He had a piece of bread within reach, but how get at it? I think he was five minutes creeping his hand up to that bread, and when there he must not move his arm.

He slily got a crumb between a finger and thumb and shot it as boys do marbles, keeping the hand quite still.

c.o.c.krobin saw it fall near him, and did sagacity, but moved not.

When another followed, and then another: he popped down and caught up one of the crumbs, but not quite understanding this mystery fled with it, for more security, to an eminence; to wit the hermit's knee.

And so the game proceeded till a much larger fragment than usual rolled along.

Here was a prize. c.o.c.krobin pounced on it, bore it aloft and fled so swiftly into the world with it, the cave resounded with the buffeted air.

”Now, bless thee, sweet bird,” sighed the stricken solitary; ”thy wings are music, and thou a feathered ray camedst to light my darkened soul.”

And from that to his orisons; and then to his tools with a little bit of courage; and this was his day's work:--

_Veni Creator Spiritus Mentes tuorum visita Imple superna gratia Quae tu creasti pectora_

_Accende lumen sensibus Mentes tuorum visita Infirma nostri corporis Virtute firmans perpetim._

And so the days rolled on; and the weather got colder and Clement's heart got warmer; and despondency was rolling away; and by-and-by, somehow or another, it was gone. He had outlived it.

It had come like a cloud, and it went like one.

And presently all was reversed; his cell seemed illuminated with joy.

His work pleased him; his prayers were full of unction; his psalms of praise. Hosts of little birds followed their crimson leader, and flying from snow, and a parish full of Cains, made friends one after another with Abel; fast friends. And one keen frosty night as he sang the praises of G.o.d to his tuneful psaltery, and his hollow cave rang forth the holy psalmody upon the night, as if that cave itself was Tubal's sounding sh.e.l.l, or David's harp, he heard a clear whine, not unmelodious; it became louder and less in tune. He peeped through the c.h.i.n.ks of his rude door, and there sat a great red wolf moaning melodiously with his nose high in the air.

Clement was rejoiced. ”My sins are going,” he cried, ”and the creatures of G.o.d are owning me, one after another.” And in a burst of enthusiasm he struck up the laud:

”Praise Him all ye creatures of His! Let everything that hath breath praise the Lord.”

And all the time he sang the wolf bayed at intervals.

But above all he seemed now to be drawing nearer to that celestial intercourse, which was the sign, and the bliss of the true hermit; for he had dreams about the saints and angels, so vivid, they were more like visions. He saw bright figures clad in woven snow. They bent on him eyes lovelier than those of the antelopes he had seen at Rome, and fanned him with broad wings hued like the rainbow, and their gentle voices bade him speed upon his course.

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