“I cannot sleep,” murmured the lad, noiselessly moving near. The priest stroked the lad’s brow.
“Have you not been asleep at all?”
“Yes.”
“But you have had bad dreams that woke you?”
“Only one.”
“And what was that?”
There was a silence.
“Did you dream about—’Thanase, for example?”
“Yes.”
The priest reached out and took the boy’s small, slender hands in his. They were moist and cold.