"Do saints hunger, Isabel?" said Pierre, striving to call her away from this. "Come, give me the loaf; but no, thou shalt help me, my sister.--Thank thee;--this is twice over the bread of sweetness.--Is this of thine own making, Isabel?"
"My own making, my brother."
"Give me the cup; hand it me with thine own hand. So:--Isabel, my heart and soul are now full of deepest reverence; yet I do dare to call this the real sacrament of the supper.--Eat with me."
They eat together without a single word; and without a single word, Pierre rose, and kissed her pure and spotless brow, and without a single word departed from the place.
VII.
We know not Pierre Glendinning's thoughts as he gained the village and passed on beneath its often shrouding trees, and saw no light from man, and heard no soun
