“And why?”
“Because such is the will of God.”
“Yes, that might be so if you were the brother of Christ,” replied the young man, sneering.
“I may not be the brother of Christ, but that of St. Peter I may well be. If you do not believe me, let us enter a wager that a year hence we will meet here again. But you will be weak and broken, much more so than you think me to be now.”
“Well, be it so, but woe betide thee if I win the wager.”
“So it shall be.”
And wishing one another good-bye, each went his own way, bent on winning the wager.
“Who was that daring old man?” asked the Ileana; “it seems to me that he is not so old as his grey hair betokens. He is a valiant man. God knows who he may be, but one thing is certain, he is not an old man.”
“How did you know it?”
“Well, when he put out his hand, he gripped mine with so much strength that he very nigh burnt my soul out of me with the fire of his hand.”