"I shall—" began Johannes again, resolutely lifting his head. But there he halted.
"Who says 'I shall'? Who knows what he will do? Can Johannes say, I am?"
"I am sorry and I am ashamed, and I wish to be better," said Johannes.
"That is well," said the soft low voice. And the tears started in Johannes' eyes. He clung close to his Guide, trembling slightly as they went.
"Teach me, my Father. I want to know how to be better."
"Not 'Father,' Johannes. We both have the same Father. You must call me Brother."
At that word Johannes looked timidly up at his Guide with startled face and wide-open eyes. In a flash of the steel-blue lightning, Johannes saw the pale brow, with the dark eyes turned kindly toward him. The hair of his Guide was matted and dripping with water, as were also his beard and his moustache. The locks clung to his white gleaming forehead, and his eyes glowed with an inner light. Johannes felt a boundless love and adoration, and at the same time an inexpressible compassion. "My brother!" thought he. "Oh, good, good man!"
And he said: "How wet you are! Put my jacket over your head. I do not need it."
But in the darkness his hand was gently restrained, and they hurried on while the sweat and the rain were commingled upon their faces.