Part 46 (1/2)

”My brother, I want your hand.”

Without hesitation he put out his hand, his fingers fumbling over the hard earth, until at last they found and grasped the man's hand.

”Is there anything I can do?” He asked.

”No, it's too dark. We must wait for the dawn. Then if you'll help me along the road a bit”--His voice trailed off into silence.

So they sat there.

”There's some one coming,” he said.

He felt the man try to struggle to a sitting position.

”No use,” he moaned. ”I couldn't see through the dark, anyway. Sacre, didn't I try it before, when you came along?”

Breathlessly they waited. There was nothing pleasant about this meeting people one couldn't see. It was just luck that the man beside him hadn't been one of Them. He wondered if the approaching person would stop before the crucifix or would go on.

The footsteps came nearer and nearer. Louder and louder they grew until the sound of them echoed clatteringly through the silence of the night.

Then sudden deafening stillness.

As yet he could make out no form. He wondered what was happening. Slowly he realized that the gloom-merged ma.s.s of the crucifix had been seen and that the feet were coming toward it. A long half minute and then something soft and cold brushed his cheek. A quick, half-smothered cry.

A woman had reached him with her outstretched hands. Her fingers had touched his face.

”Mon Dieu!” She whispered. ”Then I am not alone? Mon Dieu! Who are you?”

He answered her.

”I've lost my way. I'm waiting for the dawn.”

”You will not hurt me?” Her whimpered words betrayed her fear. ”You will let me stay to wait the daylight with you?”

”That makes three of us,” he said, ”waiting for morning.”

”Non--non; how is it then three?”

”My brother here--you--and--I.”

”Mon Dieu! Such a darkness. Tell me, it is a sign of luck, is it not, to meet with two brothers?”

”Well,” his tone was apologetic. ”We're not blood-brothers--just--” He hesitated.

”Ah!” She breathed softly. ”Is it, as the cure says, 'a Brotherhood of man'?”

He could not explain to himself why he should so resent her comparing him to her priest.

”It is a brotherhood of understanding,” he said. ”It is because we are friends.”

”Friends?” She questioned.

”Of course,” he stated emphatically. And at the same time he wondered at his own vehemence. Why should he call this man, whom he could not even see, his friend? ”Surely you do not think that I could sit here in the dark, holding my enemy by the hand?”