"Give Me the child."
He took the child and pressed it to His bosom, and the child, opening its eyes, looked up at Him. He kissed it on the brow.
"You have been asleep," He said.
The child sat up in His arms and laughed.
The Archbishop whispered to the Cardinal:
"The child lives!"
The Stranger cried to those that were within the house:
"I return whence I came. Come there to Me."
And a great hush fell on all the people, so that on a sudden they were still. And they fell back, so that a lane was formed in their midst, along which He went, with the child, laughing, in His arms.
It was as if the people had been carved out of stone. They moved neither limb nor feature, nor seemed to breathe, but stayed in the uncouth att.i.tudes in which they had been flung by pa.s.sion, with their faces as rage had distorted them, their mouths open as they had vomited blasphemies, their eyes glaring, their fists clenched.
Through the stricken people in the silent streets the Stranger went, the child laughing in His arms--on and on, on and on. Whither He went, no man knew. Nor has He been seen of any since, nor the child either.
And when He had gone, a great sigh went over all the people. Behold, they wept!
THE END.