" Fool! the good farm-people knew better. While I
gained strength, day by day she was wasting. "Only let us cross the
mountains," I prayed, "and at home all my life shall pay for her
love!" Fool, again! She would never cross the mountains, now.
There came a day when I climbed the pine-wood alone. With my new
strength, and because her weight was not on my arm, I climbed higher
than usual; and then the noise of chopping drew me on to the upper
edge of the forest, where I found Brother Polifilo with his sleeves
rolled, hacking at a tree. He dropped his axe and stared at me, as
at a ghost. I could not guess what perturbed him; for he had called
at the farm but the day before and heard me boast of my new strength.
I sat down to watch him. But after a stroke or two his arm appeared
to fail him, and he desisted. Without a word, almost without looking
at me, he laid the axe over his shoulder and went up the path towards
his chapel.
I gazed after him, wondering. Then, of a sudden, I understood.
Three days later she died. To the end they could not persuade me it
was possible; nay at the very end, while she lay panting against my
arm, I could not believe.
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