Never before had child or man looked at him with look so grateful, so glowing, so loving as this boy, his pretty curly head turned towards him, his hands stretched out in form of a cross, as if he wished to embrace him.

Dismas's limbs trembled as if a flash of lightning had fallen at his side, and yet it was only a child's eyes.

Holding his head with both hands, he fled, without knowing why he fled, for he would rather have fallen on his knees before the wondrous child.

But something like a judgment seemed to thrust him forth, back into the horror of the desert.
For three days our fugitives rested in the oasis.

Mary liked to sit on the grass under an olive-tree near the spring, and let the boy stretch his little soft arms to pluck a flower.