THE LITTLE FRIEND
I
"OH! I am so cold, so cold!" sobbed little Pierre, as he stumbledthrough the snow which was drifting deep upon the mountain side. "Oh, Iam so cold! The snow bites my face and blinds me, so that I cannot seethe road. Where are all the Christmas candle-lights? The people of thevillage must have forgotten. The little Jesus will lose His wayto-night. I never forgot to set our window at home full of lights onChristmas Eve. But now it is Christmas Eve, and there is no home anymore. And I am so cold, so cold!"
Little Pierre sobbed again and stumbled in the snow, which was driftingdeeper and deeper upon the mountain side. This was the stormiestChristmas Eve which had been seen for years, and all the little boys whohad good homes were hugging themselves close to the fire, glad thatthey were not out in the bleak night. Every window was full offlickering tapers to light the expected Holy Child upon His way throughthe village to the church. But little Pierre had strayed so far from theroad that he could not see these rows and rows of tiny earth-stars, anymore than he could see through the snow the far-off sky-stars which theangels had lighted along the streets of heaven.
Pierre was on his way to the village from the orphan boys' home at theAbbe's charity school. And that was not like a happy real home, for thelittle Brothers were rough and rude and far from loving one another. Hehad started at dusk from the school, hoping to be at the village churchbefore curfew. For Pierre had a sweet little voice, and he was to earn afew pennies by singing in the choir on Christmas morning. But it wasgrowing late. The church would be closed and the Cure gone home beforePierre could reach it; and then what should he do?
The snow whirled faster and faster, and Pierre's legs found it harderand harder to move themselves through the great drifts. They seemedheavy and numb, and he was growing oh, so tired! If he could but liedown to sleep until Christmas Day! But he knew that he must not do that.For those who choose this kind of soft and tempting bed turn intoice-people, and do not wake up in the morning. So he bent his head andtried to plough on through the drifts.
Whish! A soft white thing flapped through the snow and struck Pierre inthe face, so that he staggered and almost lost his balance. The nextmoment he had caught the thing as it fell and was holding it tenderly inhis numb hands. It was a beautiful dove, white as the snow from which itseemed to come. It had been whirled about by the storm until it had loststrength to fly, and it now lay quite still, with closed eyes. Pierrestroked the ruffled feathers gently and blew upon its cold body, tryingto bring it back to life.
"Poor bird!" he said softly. "You are lost in the snow, like me. I willtry to keep you warm, though I am myself a cold little body." He put thebird under his jacket, holding it close to his heart. Presently the doveopened its eyes and stirred feebly, giving a faint "Coo!"
"I wish I had something for you to eat, poor bird," said Pierre,forgetting his own cold and hunger. "If I could but take you into my ownhouse and feed you as I used to feed the birds upon Christmas Eve! Butnow I have no home myself, and I can scarcely keep you warm."
Pierre shivered and tried to move forward. But the storm seemed to groweven fiercer, and the wind blew so keenly in his face that he couldscarcely stand. "I cannot go another step," he said, and down he sank inthe snow, which began to cover him with a downy blanket, pretending tobe a careful mother. He hugged the bird closer and began to feel afraid.He knew that he was in great danger. "Dear Dove," he whispered, "I amsorry that I cannot save you. We shall turn into ice-images together.But I will keep you warm as long as I can." Then he closed his eyes, forhe was very sleepy.
In a little while something made Pierre open his eyes. At first he couldsee only the whirling snow, which seemed to be everywhere. But presentlyhe found that some one was bending over him, with face close to his;some one chubby and rosy and young,--a child like himself, but morebeautiful than any child whom Pierre had ever seen. He stared hard atthe face which seemed to smile at him through the snow, not minding thecold.
"You have my dove inside your coat," said the Child, pointing. "I losther in the storm. Give her to me."
Pierre held his coat the closer. "She was cold," he answered. "She wasdying in the snow. I am trying to keep her warm."
"But she is warm when she is with me, though I have no coat to wrap herin," said the Child. And, indeed, he was clad only in a little shirt,with his rosy legs quite bare. Yet he looked not cold. A brightnessglowed about him, and his breath seemed to warm the air. Pierre sawthat, though it was still snowing beyond them, there were no whirlingflakes between him and the Child.
The little Stranger held out his hand once more. "Please give me thedove," he begged. "I must hasten on my way to the village yonder. Thedove strayed from my bosom and was lost. You found her here, far fromthe road. Thank you, little boy. Are you often so kind to poor lostbirds?"
"Why, they are the Lord's own birds!" cried little Pierre. "How shouldone not be kind and love them dearly? On the Lord's birthday eve, too!It is little that I could do for this one,--I who have saved and fed somany on other Christmas Eves. Alas, I wish I was back in those good olddays of the wheat-sheaf and the full pan of milk and the bright warmfire!" Pierre's eyes filled with tears.
"What! Did you set a sheaf of wheat for the birds on Christmas Eve?"asked the Child, drawing closer and bending kindly eyes upon Pierre.
Now the boy saw that where the Stranger stood the snow had melted allaway, so that they were inclosed in a little space like a downy nest,which seemed almost warm to his limbs.
"Yes, I set out a wheat-sheaf," said Pierre simply. "Why not? I love allthe little creatures whom our Lord Himself so dearly loved, and to whomHe bade us be kind. On Christmas Eve especially I always tried to makehappy those which He sent in my way,--poor little wanderers as well asour own friends at home."
The Child drew yet closer and sat down in the snow beside Pierre. Hisbeautiful eyes shone like stars, and his voice was like sweet music."What," he said, "you are the boy who stood in the doorway with a pan ofbread and milk,--part of your own supper,--and called the hungry kittento feast? You are the same who tossed a bone to the limping dog and madehim a bed in the stable? You stroked the noses of the ox and the ass andsaid gentle things to them, because they were the first friends of thelittle Jesus? You set the sheaf of wheat for the snowbirds, and theylighted upon your hands and shoulders and kissed your lips in gratitude?You are that boy, friend of God's friends. No wonder that my white doveflew to you out of the storm. She knew, she knew!"
The Child bent near and kissed Pierre on the cheeks, so that they grewrosy, and the warm blood went tingling through his little cold limbs.Sitting up, he said: "Yes, I am that boy who last year was so happybecause he could do these pleasant things. But how do you know, littleStranger? How did you see?"
"Oh, I know, I saw!" cried the Child, gleefully clapping his hands as achild will. "I was there. I passed through the village last ChristmasEve, and I saw it all. But tell me now, how do you come here, dear boy?Why are you not in that happy home this stormy night, once more makingthe Lord's creatures happy?"
Pierre told all to the Child: how his dear father and mother had diedand left him alone in the world; how the home had been sold, and now helived in the charity school kept by the good Abbe; how he had learned ofthe chance to earn a few pennies by singing on Christmas Day in theneighboring village church, which lacked a voice among the choir-boys;how he was on his way thither when the storm had hidden the road, and hehad grown so cold, so cold!
"Then your dove came to me, little Stranger," Pierre concluded. "Shecame, and I folded her in my jacket to keep her warm. But, do you know,it must be that she has kept _me_ warm. Although I could walk nofurther, I am not cold at all, nor frightened, and no longer hungry. Sitclose to me, little Stranger. You shall share my jacket, too, and wewill all three warm one another."
The Child laughed again, a low, soft, silvery laugh, like a happy brookslipping over the pebbles. "I am not cold," he said. "I cannot stay withyou. I must go yonder." And
he pointed through the snow.
UNTIL HELP COMES]
"Whither, oh, whither?" cried Pierre eagerly. "Let me go with you. I amlost; but if you know the way we can go together, hand in hand."
The Child shook his head. "Not so," he said. "I do not follow the path,and your feet would stumble. I shall find a way without sinking in thesnow. I must go alone. But there is a better way for you. I leave mydove with you: she will keep you warm until help comes. Farewell, friendof the Lord's friends." Stooping the Child kissed Pierre once more, uponthe forehead. Then, before the boy saw how he went, he had vanished fromthe little nest of snow, without leaving a footprint behind.
Now the dove, clasped close to Pierre's heart, seemed to warm him like alittle fire within; and the Child's kiss on his forehead made him sohappy, but withal so drowsy, that he smiled as he closed his eyes oncemore repeating, "'Until help comes.' 'There is a better way' for me."
II
On the side of the mountain, away from the village street, perched thelittle hut of Grandfather Viaud. And here, on Christmas Eve, sat the oldman and his wife, looking very sad and lonely. For there was no sound ofchildish laughter in the little hut, no patter of small feet, nowhispering of Christmas secrets. The little Viauds had long since grownup and flown away to build nests of their own in far-off countries. PoorJosef Viaud and old Bettine were quite alone this Christmas Eve, savefor the Saint Bernard dog who was stretched out before the fire,covering half the floor with his huge bulk, like a furry rug. He was thevery Prince of dogs, as his name betokened, and he was very good toGrandfather and Grandmother, who loved him dearly. But on Christmas Eveeven the littlest cottage, crowded with the biggest tenants, seemslonely unless there are children in the corners.
The Viauds sat silently gazing into the fire, with scarcely a word foreach other, scarcely a caress for faithful Prince. Indeed, the great doghimself seemed to know that something was lacking, and every once in awhile would lift his head and whine wistfully.
In each of the two small windows burned a row of candles, flickering inthe draught that blew down the great chimney and swept through thelittle chamber. And these, with the crackling blaze upon the hearth,sent queer shadows quivering up the smoky walls.
Grandfather Viaud looked over his shoulder as a great gust blew theashes into the room. "Hey!" he cried. "I almost fancied the shadow ofone looking in at the window. Ha, ha! What foolishness! Eh! but it is afearsome storm. Pray the good Lord that there may be no poor creatureswandering on the mountain this night."
"The Lord's birthday, too!" said Grandmother Bettine. "The dear littleChild has a cold way to come. Even He might become confused and bedriven to wander by such a whirl of snow. I am glad that we set thetapers there, Josef, even though we be so far from the village streetdown which they say He passes. How pleasant to think that one might givelight to His blessed feet if they were wandering from the way,--the dearlittle Child's feet, so rosy and soft and tender!" And good GrandmotherViaud dropped a tear upon her knitting; for she remembered many suchlittle feet that had once pattered about the cottage floor. Princelifted his head and seemed to listen, then whined as he had done before.
"You are lonely, old fellow, are you not?" quavered old Josef. "You arewaiting for the children to come back and make it merry, as it used tobe in the old days when you were a pup. Heigho! Those were pleasantdays, but they will never come again, Prince. We are all growing old, wethree together."
"Ah, peace, Josef, peace!" cried old Bettine, wiping her eyes again. "Itis lonely enough and sad enough, God knows, without speaking of it.What use to sigh for that which cannot be? If the good Lord wished us tohave a comforter in our old age, doubtless He would send us one. Heknows how we have longed and prayed that a child's feet might echothrough our house once more: how we have hoped from year to year thatone of the grandchildren might return to bless us with his littlepresence." At this moment Prince jumped to his feet with a low bark, andstood trembling, with pointed ears.
"What dost thou hear, old dog?" asked the Grandfather carelessly. "Thereis naught human abroad this night, I warrant you. All wise folk arehugging the fire like us. Only those bad spirits of Christmas Eve arehowling about for mischief, they say. Best keep away from the door, oldPrince, lest they nip your toes or bite your nose for spite."
"Hush!" cried the Grandmother, laying her hand upon his arm. "Youforget: there is the Other One abroad. It may be that He--"
She was interrupted by Prince, who ran eagerly to the door and begansniffing at the latch in great excitement. Then he gave a long, lowhowl. At the same moment the latch rattled, and the Viauds distinctlyheard a little voice cry, "Open, open, good people!"
The old couple looked at each other; the cheeks of one flushed, and theother's paled. At the same moment they rose stiffly from their chairs bythe fire. But Grandmother Bettine was first at the door. She lifted thelatch, the door blew open violently, and with a loud bark Prince dashedout into the storm.
"What is it? Who is there?" cried Josef Viaud, peering over his wife'sshoulder. But no one answered save the rough storm, which fiercely blewinto the faces of the old couple, whirling and screaming about theirheads. "H'm! It was only a fancy," muttered the old man. "Come in,Mother. Come, Prince!" and he whistled out into the storm. But the windwhistled too, drowning his voice, and Prince did not return. "He isgone!" cried Josef impatiently. "It is some evil spirit's work."
"Nay, Father!" and, as she spoke, the door banged violently in Josef'sface, as if to emphasize the good wife's rebuke. "It was a little child;I heard it," insisted Bettine, as they staggered back to the fire andsank weakly into their chairs. "Perhaps it was the Holy Child Himself,who knows? But why would He not enter? Why, Josef? Oh, I fear we werenot good enough!"
"I only know that we have perhaps lost our good dog. Why did you openthe door, Bettine?" grumbled Josef sleepily.
"Prince is not lost. For what was he bred a snow-dog upon the mountainsif a storm like this be danger to him? He is of the race that rescues,that finds and is never lost. Mayhap the Holy Child had work for himthis night. Ah, the Little One! If I could but have seen Him for onemoment!" And good Bettine's head nodded drowsily on her chair-back.Presently the old couple were fast asleep.
Now when they had been dreaming strange things for some time, there camea scratching at the door, and a loud bark which woke them suddenly.
"What was that?" exclaimed Grandfather, starting nervously. "Ho, Prince!Are you without there?" and he ran to the door, while Grandmother wasstill rubbing from her eyes the happy dream which had made themmoist,--the dream of a rosy, radiant Child who was to be the care andcomfort of a lonely cottage. And then, before she had fairly wakenedfrom the dream, Prince bounded into the room and laid before the fire ather feet a soft, snow-wrapped bundle, from which hung a pale little facewith golden hair.
"It is the Child of my dream!" cried Bettine. "The Holy One has comeback to us."
"Nay, this is no dream-child, mother. This is a little human fellow,nearly frozen to death," exclaimed Josef Viaud, pulling the bundletoward the fire. "Come, Bettine, let us take off his snow-stiff clothesand get some little garments from the chests yonder. I will give him adraught of something warm, and rub the life into his poor little handsand feet. We have both been dreaming, it seems. But certainly this is nodream!"
"Look! The dove!" cried Grandmother, taking the bird from the child'sbosom, where it still nestled, warm and warming. "Josef! I believe it isindeed the Holy Child Himself," she whispered. "He bears a dove in hisbosom, like the image in the Church." But even as she spoke the dovefluttered in her fingers, then, with a gentle "Coo-roo!" whirled onceabout the little chamber and darted out at the door, which they hadforgotten quite to close. With that the child opened his eyes.
"The dove is gone!" he cried. "Yet I am warm. Why--has the littleStranger come once more?" Then he saw the kind old faces bent over him,and felt Prince's warm kisses on his hands and cheeks, with the fireflickering pleasantly beyond.
"It is like c
oming home again!" he murmured, and with his head onBettine's shoulder dropped comfortably to sleep.
* * * * *
On the morrow all the village went to see the image of the Christ Childlying in a manger near the high altar of the church. It was a sweetlittle Child in a white shirt, clasping in his hands a dove. Theybelieved him to have come in the stormy night down the village street.And they were glad that their pious candles in the windows had guidedHim safely on the road. But little Pierre, while he sang in the choir,and his adopted parents, the Viauds, kneeling happily below, had sweetthoughts of a dream which had brought them all together.
Who knows but that Prince at home happily guarding Pierre's snow-wet oldshoes--who knows but that Prince was dreaming the happiest dream of all?For only Prince knew how and where and under what guidance he had foundthe little friend of the Lord's friends sleeping in the snow, with but awhite dove in his bosom to keep him from becoming a boy of ice.