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The man started violently at the sound of his voice, and nearly let the jug of milk fall. "Oh, Benedé!" 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!
The vessel is encircled by three silver gilt rings, bearing an inscription, which seems not quite correctly reported, as follows: "Potum servorum benedic deus alme tuorum reliquam unus benede le un Caspar Melchior Baltazar." The legend of which I am treating attaches also to a number of sacred chalices. At Aagerup, in Zealand, is one of these.
In spite of her efforts to control herself, her voice trembled in anticipation of an affirmative answer. The herder replied that he did not know, and offered to go and see. Knocking several times, he called: "Benedè! Benedè!" A step at last! Jeanne was leaning against the door-post to keep herself from falling. O God! if it be Piero, what shall she say to him?
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