"I thank you, my child," said Donatus. "You refresh the weary; blessed are the merciful."
"Let me wet your handkerchief, to cool you," said the girl, carefully taking the bandage from his eyes. He instinctively covered the wounds with his hand, but she did not heed it, for she was wholly absorbed in her helpful zeal. She wetted the linen with the water in her bottle. "It is all bloody," she said. "Have you hurt yourself?"
"Yes," he replied hardly audibly. She folded it into a square pad and laid it on his head; but he still kept his eyes covered that the child might not be frightened.
"That will do you good," said she, and then she took some of her wood-strawberries and put them into his mouth. "There, eat them; I picked them for you, and you--the other one, have some too--but the best are for Donatus."
"Do you know me then?" asked Donatus in surprise.
"Certainly I know you. You are the angel I saw that day."
"Are you in your right senses, child? When was I ever an angel?"
"Yes--don't you remember--that day when they made you a priest?"
"Oh! I never was farther from being an angel than in that hour," murmured Donatus, and he let his hand fall from his face.
"But you had wings then; why have you lost them?" continued the girl.