[The Saint by Antonio Fogazzaro]@TWC D-Link bookThe Saint CHAPTER III 57/58
It was indeed morning, and it would be lighter still--for it no longer rained-were the sky not one heavy cloud from the hills of Subiaco to the hills of Jenne.
A step in the distance; some one coming up towards the arch. It was the herder of Santa Scolastica who, for special reasons, was carrying the milk to the Sacro Speco at that unusually early hour. Benedetto greeted him.
The man started violently at the sound of his voice, and nearly let the jug of milk fall. "Oh, Benede!" he exclaimed, recognising Benedetto, "are you here ?" Benedetto begged for a drink of milk, for the love of God! "You can explain to the monks," said he.
"You can say I was exhausted, and asked for a little milk, for the love of God." "Yes, yes! It is all right! Take it! Drink!" the man exclaimed, for he believed Benedetto to be a saint.
"And have you passed the night out here? You were out in all that rain? Good Lord! how wet you are! You are soaked through like a sponge!" Benedetto drank. "I thank God," he said, "for your Madness and for the blessing of the milk." He embraced the man, and years afterwards the herder, Nazzareno Mercuri, used to tell that while Benedetto held him in his arms, he, Nazzareno did not seem to be himself; that his blood first turned to ice and then to fire; that his heart beat hard, very hard, as it did the first time he received Christ in the Sacrament; that a terrible headache which had tormented him for two days suddenly disappeared; that then he had realised he was in the arms of a saint, a worker of miracles; and that he had fallen on his knees at his feet! In reality he did not fall on his knees, but stood as one petrified, and Benedetto had to say twice to him: "Now go, Nazzareno; go, my dear son." Having despatched him thus lovingly on his way to the Sacro Speco, he himself started towards Santa Scholastica. In the light of day the rocky slope held no spirits either good or evil. The mountains, the clouds, even the dark walls of the monastery, and the tower itself looked heavy with sleep in the pale dawn.
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