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Tell me the meaning, for if there is a man in all the world that knows it, I am sure it is thou." So Winfried took the book and closed it, clasping the boy's hand with his own. "Let us first dismiss the others to their vespers," said he, "lest they should be weary."
But he heard the last words of Winfried as he spoke of the angelic messengers, flying over the hills of Judea and singing as they flew. The child wondered and dreamed and listened. Suddenly his face grew bright. He put his lips close to Irma's cheek again. "Oh, mother!" he whispered very low, "do not speak. Do you hear them? Those angels have come back again. They are singing now behind the tree."
It stood like a pillar of cloud between the still light of heaven and the crackling, flashing fire of earth. But the fire itself was invisible to Winfried and his companions. A great throng of people were gathered around it in a half-circle, their backs to the open glade, their faces towards the oak.
He will perish with hunger in the woods." "Once," said Winfried, smiling, "we were camped by the bank of the river Ohru. The table was spread for the morning meal, but my comrades cried that it was empty; the provisions were exhausted; we must go without breakfast, and perhaps starve before we could escape from the wilderness.
The two men took their places facing each other, one on each side of the oak. Their cloaks were flung aside, their heads bare. Carefully they felt the ground with their feet, seeking a firm grip of the earth. Firmly they grasped the axe-helves and swung the shining blades. "Tree-god!" cried Winfried, "art thou angry? Thus we smite thee!" "Tree-god!" answered Gregor, "art thou mighty?
Swiftly, and as with a single motion, a thousand eyes were bent upon the speaker. The semicircle opened silently in the middle; Winfried entered with his followers; it closed again behind them. Then, as they looked round the curving ranks, they saw that the hue of the assemblage was not black, but white, dazzling, radiant, solemn.
The dignity of the words imposed mightily upon the hearts of the people. They were quieted as men who have listened to a lofty strain of music. "Tell us, then," said Gundhar, "what is the word that thou bringest to us from the Almighty. What is thy counsel for the tribes of the woodland on this night of sacrifice?" "This is the word, and this is the counsel," answered Winfried.
A murmur of awe ran through the crowd. "It is the sacred tongue of the Romans: the tongue that is heard and understood by the wise men of every land. There is magic in it. Listen!" Winfried went on to read the letter, translating it into the speech of the people.
The young voice rang out clearly, rolling the sonorous words, without slip or stumbling, to the end of the chapter. Winfried listened smiling. "My son," said he, as the reader paused, "that was bravely read. Understandest thou what thou readest?"
He turned to his grandmother. She shook her head vigorously. "Nay, father," she said, "draw not the lad away from my side with these wild words. I need him to help me with my labors, to cheer my old age." "Do you need him more than the Master does?" asked Winfried; "and will you take the wood that is fit for a bow to make a distaff?" "But I fear for the child. Thy life is too hard for him.
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