"Child, you are dreaming, I never had wings."
"I thought I saw you with wings. But there is something different in you now--" she studied him attentively; suddenly she started up, "Oh--now I know--you have not got any eyes?"
Donatus clasped his hands over his face; the child stood by pale and trembling, and tear after tear forced its way through her long lashes and fell on her little clasped hands. "Poor, poor man!" she sighed from the depths of her child's heart. Brother Porphyrius had to turn away his head, he was so deeply moved.
Donatus started up. "Let us go on," he said hastily.
"I will go with you," said the little girl.
"Why, where are you going?" asked Porphyrius.
"Wherever you go."
"Do you know then whither we are going?" asked Donatus.
"No."
"Then how can you know that our roads are the same?"