The face, though, as I could see in my hurried glance, and even
at that distance, was the smooth, clean-shaven face of a priest--the
face of a man of fifty, I should think, who had spent all his life in
the service of others.
Again came the voice, this time quite near.
"Susette! Susette!"
The child, without turning her head, waved her hand in reply, looked
earnestly into my face, and with a quick bending of one knee in
courtesy, and a "Merci, M'sieu; merci," ran with all her speed toward
the priest, who stretched wide his arms, half-lifting her from the
ground in the embrace. Then a smile broke over his face, so joyous, so
full of love and tenderness, so much the unconscious index of the heart
that prompted it, that I laid down my palette to watch them.
I have known many priests in my time, and I have never ceased to marvel
at the beauty of the tie which binds them to the little ones of their
flocks. I have never been in a land where priests and children were not
companions.
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