IV.
A PLAGUE-STRICKEN VILLAGE.
The dust raised by their horses' hoofs was still floating over the
highway when Goldenday, with his sister and their attendants, rode up
to the spot. Two or three groups of the fugitives had made a temporary
home for the night under the shelter of the trees on the left. Others
were still arriving. The pale faces, the terrified looks of the
villagers, filled the Prince with concern. "It is the pestilence,"
they said, in answer to his inquiries. "The pestilence, good sir, and
it is striking us dead in the very streets of our village." The Prince
turned to his sister. She was already dismounted. A light was in her
eye which at once went to his heart. The two understood each other.
They knew that it was Christ and not merely a crowd of terrified
peasants who had met them. They were His eyes that looked out at them
through the tear-filled eyes of the peasantry. It was His voice that
appealed to them in their cries and anguish. He seemed to be saying to
them: "Inasmuch as ye do it to one of the least of these, ye do it unto
Me.
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