So one of the boys ran away to a house in the village and came back presently with an old viol and a bow. Angelo fingered the instrument, and tuned it, for he had been a skilful musician.
"Now I will teach you," said he, "a very sweet music that I heard this morning. And do you all sing as I teach you, and between the songs take hands and dance around."
Then he sat down upon a grassy hillock, with the children in a circle about him, and he taught them the songs that were sung by the little brother of the sun and of the wind and of the water and of the birds—even by that minstrel of God who came to the cave with the morning light. Between the verses the children, holding hands, danced in a ring around Fra Angelo, while he played upon the old viol.
As he played thus, he was aware of a hand upon his shoulder, and supposed it to be one of the children.
"Go back," he said, "go back to your place, dearest naughty one; the song is not finished."
"It is finished," said a voice behind him. "This is the right ending of the song."
And Angelo, looking up in amazement, saw the face of an angel, and the bow dropped from his fingers.
When the music ceased, the children broke their ring and ran to Angelo where he lay upon the grass. They wondered to see him so still and pale, yet because his face was smiling they were not afraid.
"He is weary," they cried; "the good friar has fallen asleep—perhaps he has fainted. Let us run and call help for him."
But they did not understand that the messenger of Holy Death had passed among them and called Angelo in the odour of sanctity.