"
He held the flask to the lips of his comrade, and made him sip a little
of his wine.
"Now it is enough," he said, withdrawing the flask from his lips. "Since
you have quenched your thirst, comrade, would you not like to eat a
piece of bread and some meat? Ah, you smile; you are surprised because I
guess your wishes and know your sufferings. You need not wonder at it,
however, comrade, for I have undergone just the same torture as you.
Above all, you must eat something."
While speaking, he had produced from his knapsack a loaf of bread and a
piece of roast chicken, and cutting a few slices from both, placed them
tenderly in the mouth of the sufferer, looking on with smiling joy while
the other moved his jaws, slowly at first, but soon more rapidly and
eagerly.
"Now another draught of wine, comrade," he said, "and then, I may dare
to give you some more food. Hush! do not say a word--it is a sacred work
you are doing now, a work by which you are just about to save a human
life. You must not, therefore, interrupt it by any superfluous
protestations of gratitude. Moreover, your words are written in your
eyes, and you cannot tell me any thing better and more beautiful than
what I am reading therein. Drink! So! And here is a piece of bread and a
wing of the chicken. While you are eating, I will look around in the
yard and garden to find there some water to wash your wounds.
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