“Let me give you some food now. We can share it.”
“Heaven bless you,” said the old man.
They walked down the slope together, and found a seat on a grassy mound. Ørlygur opened his haversack and took out first a new pair of shoes.
“Take these, will you not?” he asked shyly. “Yours are badly worn. I brought these with me in case my own gave out. But they will last me home easily.”
The old man took them gladly, and let his fingers glide caressingly along the clean soles. He put them on, and looked up with deep gratitude in his face.
“Fine shoes,” he said, and laughed happily.
“It does not take much to please you,” said Ørlygur, with a smile. “And now let us have something to eat.”
They ate in silence, each occupied with his own thoughts. Ørlygur was watching his companion, and noticed now for the first time that one eye was closed. The man’s appearance seemed less repulsive now than at first. Evidently, one who had seen better days.
When the old man had finished he wiped his mouth and murmured something to himself, then added aloud:
“Thanks be to God.” And he reached out for Ørlygur’s hand in thanks, looking at it closely as he did so.