Поющие в терновнике

           Theflashlightinhishandsprangintolife;heleveledhisbeaminthedirectionofthesound,notfrightenedsomuchascurious.Thiswashisworld;hecoulddefenditsecurefromfear.

           Thebeamplayeduponwhathadbecomeinhiseyesthemostbeautifulpieceofsculptureinallcreation:thePietàofMichelangelo.Belowthestilledstunnedfigureswasanotherface,madenotofmarblebutofflesh,allshadowedhollowsanddeathlike.

           "Ciao,"saidHisGrace,smiling.

           Therewasnoanswer,buthesawthattheclotheswerethoseofaGermaninfantrymanoflowestrank;hisordinaryman!ThathewasaGermandidn’tmatter.

           "Wiegeht’s?"heasked,stillsmiling.

           Amovementcausedsweatonawide,intellectualbrowtoflashsuddenlyoutofthedimness.

           "Dubistkrank?"heaskedthen,wonderingifthelad,forhewasnomore,wasill.

           Camethevoice,atlast:"Nein."

           ArchbishopRalphlaidhisflashlightdownonthefloorandwentforward,puthishandunderthesoldier’schinandliftedittolookintothedarkeyes,darkerinthedarkness.

           "What’sthematter?"heaskedinGerman,andlaughed."There!"hecontinued,stillinGerman."Youdon’tknowit,butthat’sbeenmymainfunctioninlife—toaskpeoplewhat’sthematter.And,letmetellyou,it’saquestionwhichhasgotmeintoalotoftroubleinmytime."

           "Icametopray,"saidtheladinavoicetoodeepforhisage,withaheavyBavarianaccent.

           "Whathappened,didyougetlockedin?"

           "Yes,butthatisn’twhatthematteris."