He put one hand upon his heart as he spoke.
“We must trust to Providence and do our best,” replied the priest with a smile. “You are not giving way to despair, are you, my friend?”
“No, my best of friends. But I cannot help feeling within me a strange comminglement of hope and doubt, of joy and fear. Oh, Antonio, if anything happens to that dear child, I shall not want to live one single hour longer. I should—”
“Hush! hush! mon ami, I feel certain it will all come right.”
My master grasped his hand.
“How much I admire your repose, your calmness, and your perfect trust in Providence.”
Most of the officers had now congregated round the bows, one or two only being on the little bridge, for we were within but a few miles of the strange quaint city of Bagdad. But what a lovely picture the river and its banks now made! Here was many a beautiful house and charming villa, in whose gardens or lawns lovely children were playing. There were flowers everywhere, and everywhere were orchards all in bloom, pink, crimson, and snow-white.
The river was very rapid here indeed, so our progress was slow; but except my master, no one on board I believe would have cared to have it any quicker.
He was standing astern, near the wheel, gazing dreamily into the water, when the priest advancing, led him aside. Then he pointed to a strange-looking building on a low hill, surrounded by waving woods. It seemed partly a villa and partly a fort.