At this moment he cut away the last piece of the rind.
The room was suddenly filled with the light of a thousand candles. Colors of the rainbow fell upon the walls—a huge center of radiance like the sun in the heavens blazed into being at the very place where the pumpkin shell had been but a moment before. Flickering, dancing flecks of light leaped about the room and transformed its gloom into the brilliancy of day—and then there was again but the light of the little lantern, for the father had placed that which the pumpkin contained in a bag furnished by Jan Kanty, and was busy tying up the open side when Joseph came rushing up to the table.
“Father,” he cried, “what was it? What was the light which came from that which you took from the pumpkin?”
The father’s voice was kindly but firm. “In time, Joseph, you shall know. It would be but a care to you, a matter of more worry than you suspect, if you knew what responsibility we are carrying here. If it is mere curiosity, be assured that knowledge will bring nothing but pain. If it is real interest, I will tell you plainly that in due time you shall be informed of all that has passed. Just now—it has cost me so much that I have not the heart to burden your young life with its secrets.”
He broke off, and, after a short silence, changed the subject.
“We will go now to that place which you have found for us. While you slept the reverend father and I have been to see your friends. He has seen to it that the rooms have been made comfortable, and there we shall stay, at least for the present.”
CHAPTER V
IN THE STREET OF THE PIGEONS
St. Ann’s Street was as black as pitch when they emerged from the habitation of the scholar-priest. He insisted on accompanying them and carried his little candle lantern for aid, which, though it threw a faint light upon the ground a step or two ahead, yet had not much more light than the stars which shone down from a moonless sky. Pan Andrew with his wife on his right arm followed Jan Kanty, and Joseph brought up the rear. They had taken but a few steps along the narrow footwalk by the side of the road, when something damp and clammy was forced into the boy’s right hand; he gave a little startled jump, but reassured himself at the next minute that it was nothing but the nose of a stray dog that had sought his hand as a token of friendly greeting.
“And as I live,” thought Joseph as he reached down and felt a great shaggy head, “it’s like the wolf dog that leaped at Elzbietka this very day. Yes—it’s about the same size—and here: the collar is exactly the same that I had my fingers through. I know its feel by those little knobs that almost tear the flesh. Father! Father!” he called.
Pan Andrew turned about quickly. “What is it?”