"That is well," continued the Cardinal kindly--"And now, since it is
so difficult for you to kneel, you shall stay where you are in my
arms,--so!"--and he set him on his knee in a position of even
greater comfort than before, "You shall simply shut your eyes, and
clasp your little hands together as I put them here,"--and as he
spoke he crossed the child's hands on his silver crucifix-"And I
will ask our Lord to come and make you well,--for of myself I can do
nothing."
At these words Henri and Babette glanced at each other
questioningly, and then as if simultaneously moved by some
inexplicable emotion, dropped on their knees,--their mother, too
stout and unwieldy to do this with either noiselessness or
satisfaction to herself, was contented to bend her head as low as
she could get it. Manuel remained standing. Leaning against the
Cardinal's chair, his eyes fixed on the crippled Fabien, he had the
aspect of a young Angel of compassion, whose sole immortal desire
was to lift the burden of sorrow and pain from the lives of
suffering humanity. And after a minute or two passed in silent
meditation, the Cardinal laid his hands tenderly on Fabien's fair
curly head and prayed aloud.
"Oh merciful Christ! Most pitying and gentle Redeemer!--to Whom in
the days of Thy sacred life on earth, the sick and suffering and
lame and blind were brought, and never sent away unhealed or
uncomforted; consider, we beseech Thee, the sufferings of this Thy
little child, deprived of all the joys which Thou hast made so sweet
for those who are strong and straight in their youth, and who have
no ailment to depress their courage or to quench the ardour of their
aspiring souls.
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