"Truly thy head will never save thy heels;
but here's a riddle for thee:
Riddle me riddle me re,
Four big brothers are we;
We gather the fruit, but climb never a tree.
Who are they?"
"Four tall robbers, I suppose," said the other.
"Tush!" cried his comrade. "They are the four winds; and when they
whistle, down falls the ripest. But others can shake besides the
winds, as I will show thee if thou hast any doubts in the matter."
And as he spoke he sprang to catch the other boy, who ran from him;
and they chased each other down the hill, and the hermit heard no
more.
But as he turned to go home he said, "The thief was not far away when
thou stoodst near. Nevertheless, I will have patience. It needs not
that I should go to seek thee, for what saith the Scripture? _Thy
sin_ will find thee out." And he made conserve of such apples as were
left, and said nothing.
Now after a certain time a plague broke out in the hamlet; and it was
so sore, and there were so few to nurse the many who were sick, that,
though it was not the wont of the hermit ever to leave his place, yet
in their need he came down and ministered to the people in the
village. And one day, as he passed a certain house, he heard moans
from within, and entering, he saw lying upon a bed a boy who tossed
and moaned in fever, and cried out most miserably that his throat was
parched and burning.
Pages:
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180