“And you helped him?” asked Kasana.

“How could I do otherwise?” replied Ephraim.  “He had already lost a great deal of blood and was pale as death.  So I carried him to the nearest ditch, washed the gaping wound, and anointed it with his balsam.”

“I put the little box in his pouch myself a year ago,” said the nurse who was easily moved, wiping her eyes.  Ephraim confirmed the statement, for Apu had gratefully told him of it.  Then he went on.

“I tore my upper garment into strips and bandaged the wound as well as I could.  Meanwhile he constantly urged haste, held out the pass and letter his master had given him and, knowing nothing of the misfortune which had befallen me, charged me to deliver the roll to the prince in his place.  Oh, how willingly I undertook the task and, soon after the second hour had passed, I reached the camp.  The letter is in the prince’s hands, and here am I—­and I can see that you are glad!  But no one was ever so happy as I to sit here at your feet, and look up to you, so grateful as I am that you have listened to me so kindly, and if they load me with chains again I will bear it calmly, if you will but care for me.  Ah, my misfortune has been so great!  I have neither father nor mother, no one who loves me.  You, you alone are dear, and you will not repulse me, will you?”

He had fairly shouted the last words, as if beside himself, and carried away by the might of passion and rendered incapable by the terrible experiences of the past few hours of controlling the emotions that assailed him, the youth, still scarcely beyond childhood, who saw himself torn away from and bereft of all that had usually sustained and supported him, sobbed aloud, and like a frightened birdling seeking protection under its mother’s wings, hid his head, amid floods of tears, in Kasana’s lap.

Warm compassion seized upon the tender-hearted young widow, and her own eyes grew dim.  She laid her hands kindly upon his head, and feeling the tremor that shook the frame of the weeping lad, she raised his head with both hands, kissed his brow and cheeks, looked smilingly into his eyes with tears in her own, and exclaimed: 

“You poor, foolish fellow!  Why should I not care for you, why should I repel you?  Your uncle is the most beloved of men to me, and you are like his son.  For your sakes I have already accepted what I should otherwise have thrust far, far from me!  But now I must go on, and must not care what others may think or say of me, if only I can accomplish the one thing for which I am risking person, life, all that I once prized!  Wait, you poor, impulsive fellow!”—­and here she again kissed him on the cheeks—­“I shall succeed in smoothing the path for you also.  That is enough now!”

This command sounded graver, and was intended to curb the increasing impetuosity of the ardent youth.  But she suddenly started up, exclaiming with anxious haste:  “Go, go, at once!”