When at last his mother came he buried his face in her breast and sobbed: "His head hangs like a flower broken at the stem. He can not lift it, and he thirsts no more for water."
"Peace be to Jael's father," the mother replied, choking back a sob, "and peace be to thee, my brave little Jesu."
"Nay, I am not brave. I was afraid—afraid!"
"Nay, nay. My little Jesu is not afraid of a dog."
"Nay, not a dog. But after the head of Jael's father fell low, something seemed reaching out long dark arms to gather me in—in to Jael's father—and I feared."
The mother pressed the hand of the child in hers. Reassured by the warm strong clasp, he smiled as his mother said, "It were but childish fear. There is nothing by the roadside reaching dark arms out to you."
"Nay, nothing—nothing, woman," replied the child, laughing at his own fear, "nothing save the shadow of the cross."