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Theobald, the Iron-Hearted Love to Enemies


Anonymous / 2008-09-16 00:00:00


The latter had fallen asleep, after Ethbert left him; and when he awoke,
all was tranquil around him. The warriors, after having taken some
nourishment, had returned to their camp, and Arnold was sleeping beneath
the eyes of his happy father, and of Erard, who repeated incessantly, in
a low voice, "O, how good the Lord is! He has preserved my father!"
"This is a singular house," thought Theobald. "What kindness, what
benevolence, and, at the same time, what seriousness and solemnity, even
down to this child! How they speak of God, of Jesus, and of heaven!
But, am I mistaken? No: not one among them has named either the Holy
Virgin or the saints!
"Can it be possible!" added he, after long reflection. "Perhaps I am in
the family of a Hussite, one of those Calixtans whom I abhor. No, no!
They would hate me also--for they know now who I am--and perhaps I shall
see no more of the love and interest they have shown me.
"But," said he again, "there is something here that I cannot comprehend.
I must inquire and inform myself."
Gottfried had returned. His countenance was serene; and it was with
affectionate cordiality that he inquired of the chevalier if he was
refreshed by his sleep.
"I am as quiet as possible," replied Theobald; "though this limb pains
me some, and I am slightly feverish.
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