Max Pemberton

“ Oh, that I should have no pillow for my head, no drink for my lips! You pity me, my friend?"
"Nay," said the Jesuit suddenly, "why should I pity you? Are you weary, then take a pillow of the grass; do you thirst, there is the stream for your lips; if you hunger, gather fruit as you go. But, above all things, give thanks to God in that he has permitted you still to sleep, still to thirst, still to hunger."
He turned away with the words and the night hid him from their view.
"Surely the man has a devil," said the Abbé. ”

“ A gloomier company never set foot in the forest, nor one so melancholy. Gone was the fat from the cheeks of the Abbé, gone was the smile from the face of Pepin. The old servant walked with downcast eyes and trembling lips. He looked back often at the home he loved it was no home to him now. He remembered that every brick of it, every path, every tree, every glade was like a friend to be lost. And never again would he behold them.
"Saints and angels defend us!" cried the Abbé as his mule entered the glade of the woods ”

“ She had gone out of the lives of the people like a sun that had set. And no man was so bold that he lifted his voice to mourn for her.
The priest stood in the shelter of the thicket and looked down to the belt of trees girdling about the château. ”