Often did she drink of this water. It became a fountain
of life springing up in her heart. I have come to drink at the
same source. It will strengthen me as a sacrament. Come, son, let
us take it together as we go to our duty in battle!"
Father Courcy stood up and opened his old black bag. He took out
a small metal cup. He filled it carefully at the spring. He made
the sign of the cross over it.
"In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit," he murmured,
"blessed and holy is this water." Then he held the cup toward the
soldier. "Come, let us share it and make our vows together."
The bright drops trembled and fell from the bottom of the cup. The
soldier sat still, his head in his hands.
"No," he answered heavily, "I cannot take it. I am not worthy.
Can a man take a sacrament without confessing his sins?"
Father Courcy looked at him with pitying eyes. "I see," he said
slowly; "I see, my son. You have a burden on your heart. Well, I
will stay with you and try to lift it. But first I shall make my
own vow."
He raised the cup toward the sky.
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