By and by they drank from a brook and then ate together. The priest also
carried a knapsack under his heavy brown overcoat and they shared their
food, finishing it with a sip or two from a flask of light wine.
"We come to a crossroad a mile further on," said the priest, "and there
I think we will part. I turn into the crossroad, and you, I take it,
keep the road to Stuttgart."
"I shall be sorry."
"The way of the world, my son. All through life we are meeting and
parting. The number of people who travel with us all the road is very
small. It may be that I have surmised somewhat of your quest. No, say
nothing! I would not know more, but a far greater power than mine will
help you in it."
They parted at the crossroad and John felt as if he left an old friend.
When he looked back he saw the priest on a little hill gazing after him,
and he felt again as if the good wish that would count was coming on a
wave of air. Then his own road dipped into a valley and at nightfall he
came to a village which had a little inn, humble but neat and clean.
Here he procured a razor and shaved the stubble from his face. He no
longer had a fear of meeting anyone whom he might know, save possibly
Weber, and Weber was a friend.
John's frank face and cheerful manner again made friends for him. The
stout innkeeper and his stout wife favored him with the food, and
hearing that he had come from Metz they wanted to know all the gossip,
which he told them as far as he knew.
Pages:
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205