stained with blood.
For a moment she stood still in awe and fear, but the Hermit raised his
hand, and blessed her, and smiled upon her; and even in that worn and
disfigured face the light in the Hermit's eyes as he smiled was tender
and beautiful; and the child ceased to fear, and passed slowly along,
still gazing at him and smiling in return.

In the rear of the great multitude of geese came a churl, tall and
young, and comely enough for all his embrowning in the sun and wind,
and his unkempt hair and rude dress. It was he who made the music,
playing on pan's-pipes to lighten the way, and quickening with his
staff the loiterers of his flock.

When he perceived the Hermit he stayed his playing, for he bethought
him, Is not this the saintly man of whose strange penance and miracles
of healing the folk talk in rustic huts and hamlets far scattered? But
when they drew nigh to each other, the Hermit bowed low to the
Gooseherd, and addressed him: "Give me leave to speak a little with
thee, good brother; for an Angel of heaven hath told me of thee, and
fain would I converse with thee. Twenty years and three have I served
the King of Glory in supplication and fasting and tribulation of
spirit, and yet I lack that which thou canst teach me. Now tell me, I
beseech thee, what works, what austerities, what prayers have made thee
so acceptable to God."

A dark flush rose on the Goose-herd's cheeks as he listened, but when
he answered it was in a grave and quiet voice: "It ill becomes an aged
man to mock and jeer at the young, nor is it more seemly that the holy
should gibe at the poor."

"Dear son in Christ," said the Hermit, "I do not gibe or mock at thee.
By the truth of the blessed tree, I was told of thee by an Angel in the
very night which is now over and gone, and was bidden to question thee.
Wherefore be not wrathful, but answer me truly, I beg of thy charity."

The Goose-herd shook his head. "This is a matter beyond me," he
replied. "All my work, since thou askest of my work, hath been the
tending and rearing of geese and driving them to market. From the good
marsh lands at the foot of the hills out west I drive them, and the
distance is not small, for, sleeping and resting by boulder and tree,
for five days are we on the way. Slow of foot goeth your goose when he
goeth not by water, and it profits neither master nor herd to stint
them of their green food. And all my prayer hath been that I might get
them sa