By fingers he well knew; and knew as well
How in the darkness, sweating, to endure.
For he was steadfast—like his tossing pupil,
Daniel, in the bed where Berrien lay.
Hour after hour, that night and every night,
Berrien strove to riddle his strange words,
His mumbled words, that stubbornly kept on
Refusing what was whispered. What was that?
Or was it anything? Was someone by them,
Whispering to him? She lay and wondered,