Fathers and sons -- Fiction; People with disabilities -- Fiction; Princes -- Fiction; Refugees -- Fiction
They had eaten their meal of black bread and cheese after the setting of
the sun, and now they lay down on their backs and looked up until the
first few stars had multiplied themselves into myriads. They began a
little low talk, but the soundlessness was stronger than themselves.
"How am I going to hold on to that second law?" The Rat said restlessly.
"'Let pass through thy mind only the image thou wouldst see become a
truth.' The things that are passing through my mind are not the things I
want to come true. What if we don't find him--don't find the right one,
I mean!"
"Lie still--still--and look up at the stars," whispered Marco. "They
give you a _sure_ feeling."
There was something in the curious serenity of him which calmed even his
aide-de-camp. The Rat lay still and looked--and looked--and thought. And
what he thought of was the desire of his heart. The soundlessness
enwrapped him and there was no world left. That there was a spark of
light in the mountain-climbers' rest-hut was a thing forgotten.
They were only two boys, and they had begun their journey on the
earliest train and had been walking about all day and thinking of great
and anxious things.
"It is so still," The Rat whispered again at last.
"It is so still," whispered Marco.
And the mountains rising behind each other and beside each other and
beyond each other in the night, and also the myriads of stars which had
so multiplied themselves, looking down knew that they were asleep--as
sleep the human things which do not watch forever.
* * * * *
"Some one is smoking," Marco found himself saying in a dream. After
which he awakened and found that the smoke was not part of a dream at
all. It came from the pipe of a young man who had an alpenstock and who
looked as if he had climbed to see the sun rise. He wore the clothes of
a climber and a green hat with a tuft at the back. He looked down at the
two boys, surprised.
"Good day," he said. "Did you sleep here so that you could see the sun
get up?"
"Yes," answered Marco.
"Were you cold?"
"We slept too soundly to know. And we brought our thick coats."
"I slept half-way down the mountains," said the smoker. "I am a guide
in these days, but I have not been one long enough to miss a sunrise it
is no work to reach. My father and brother think I am mad about such
things. They would rather stay in their beds. Oh! he is awake, is he?"
turning toward The Rat, who had risen on one elbow and was staring at
him. "What is the matter? You look as if you were afraid of me."
Marco did not wait for The Rat to recover his breath and speak.
"I know why he looks at you so," he answered for him. "He is startled.
Yesterday we went to a hair-dresser's shop down below there, and we saw
a man who was almost exactly like you--only--" he added, looking up,
"his eyes were gray and yours are brown."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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