He remained long minutes beseeching, while the moon, anchored in a little stream of clouds, seemed to his excited imagination the very boat which awaited the coming of One who should walk the waters. He stretched out his arms to it.
'Lord save me,' he cried, 'or I sink!'
He heard a snuffle at his back, and looked round and up to find the fool Cicada regarding him glassily.
'Sink!' stuttered the creature, swaying where he stood. 'Lord save me too! I am under already—drowned in Malmsey!'
Bembo rose to his feet with a happy sigh. 'Exultate Deo adjutori nostro!' he murmured, 'I am answered.'
His clear, serene young brow confronted the fuddled wrinkles of the other's like an angel's.
'Cicada mio,' he said endearingly; 'judge if God is dull of hearing, when, on the echo of my cry, here is one holding out his hand to me!'
The Fool, staring stupidly, lifted his own lean right paw, and squinted to focus his gaze on it.
'Meaning me?—meaning this?' he said.
Bembo nodded.