“It’s strange,” said Liska, the next day, to Juriga. “this man Lesina is different from the rest of us. He hardly said a word the whole way along the road, as I helped him carry his things. He acts as if he carried a heavy burden on his mind.”
Juriga had noticed the same thing many times, but he only said: “We’re going to miss him, nevertheless; may God restore joy to him, and bring him back soon to us.”
Indeed, Juriga was not mistaken; the hut seemed empty, for even Palko was not there. The forest guard had come with a message from Father Malina asking for the boy’s services.
“You must indeed let Palko go; Father Malina will pay you well in return,” said the forest guard.
Juriga wondered what Palko would think of the arrangement, but when the lad found that his grandfather would be amply provided for in his absence, he jumped for joy.
“Oh, the Lord is so good! I told Lesina we should leave it to God’s will, and just see what He has done for me,” he said to the bewildered Juriga.
Never had Palko’s simple heart dreamed of a life like that which now began for him. He slept on a couch in the same room as the forest guard, and how very comfortable it was. Palko, used to his bed of straw in the corner of Juriga’s hut, never imagined there could be anything more comfortable than that couch. On rising in the morning what breakfasts they got, prepared by the skillful hands of the forest guard’s good wife, and what sweetmeats she tucked in his pockets when he set forth as guide to Father Malina. Morning after morning he led him through shady glens and across brooks, or for a climb over the rocks. That good man did not complain. He gathered flowers, plants, and mosses and was very grateful for his young guide, who showed him the most lovely views of all the mountainside, for there could be no better guide than Palko who knew every nook and cranny and stone for miles around. When they were tired and stopped to rest, Palko, who carried the priest’s traveling cape, was ready to cover him with it. The little boy found his august companion an expert in the names of the plants, flowers, and birds. All this the priest taught Palko, as well as giving him lessons in reading, writing and arithmetic.
At times, the priest, who was not overly strong, would lie down and sleep for a little. During this time, Palko would take the opportunity to look for strawberries, as he did not wish to return to the house without taking some offering to the good lady who was so kind to him. Happily, Dunaj had not accompanied his master Lesina. “I leave him to you, Palko,” he said before leaving. “I’m afraid he would miss you too much if I took him with me.” Thus Dunaj was always present on these happy outings, for where Palko went, there Dunaj went also.
For Palko the happiest moments were when the priest took the New Testament from his great pocket to read to him, although to tell the truth, there were times when he heard many things too difficult to understand. He was tremendously interested in the story of the apostles and all their wonderful doings. After the book of Acts had been gone through came a letter entitled, ‘To the Romans.’ This time Palko could hardly understand any of it, while the priest, on the contrary, could scarcely get on quickly enough with the reading, going back time after time to it, and meditating thereon, especially when he came to these words: “God commendeth His love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.”
“Sir!” cried Palko, “how glad I am to hear this; it sounds so good to me!”
“You are right, my son. God gave us His all. Christ died for us!”
“He died for us?” said the astonished Palko. “That’s strange! I thought He had died because wicked people had crucified Him. How, then, did He die for us? and why?” Palko was greatly interested.
Opening at the Gospel of St. John, the priest read from the third chapter about Moses and the serpent, and then told the story of the Israelites and what happened to them after they had left Egypt. They had rebelled against God, and had done wicked things. Poisonous serpents had come forth throughout the great camp and had bitten them and many were dying, but at God’s command, Moses placed a brazen serpent on a pole, and as many as looked on the serpent in faith were healed. “That story,” said Father Malina, “is to teach us about our sins and the remedy. Those poisonous serpents are our sins, and the brazen serpent, by which they were saved, shows us how Jesus Christ became accursed for us, and was put on the Cross for our sins.”
As Palko seemed to have difficulty in understanding this, the priest went on to tell him of the sufferings of the children of Israel in Egypt. He told him how Moses was sent by God to deliver them from their slavery under Pharaoh, who refused to let them go, and how the Lord, after performing many miracles by the hand of Moses, finally sent His destroying Angel in judgment upon Egypt. How God protected the Israelites by ordering them to kill a young male lamb without any defect for each family, and put his blood on the side posts and lintel of the door of each Israelitish dwelling, in order that the destroying Angel, seeing the blood of the lamb put there by the family, might pass over the house without destroying any of that family. The priest solemnly repeated the words: “‘Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us. Behold the Lamb of God which taketh away the sin of the world!’ Do you understand, Palko? We also should have perished because of our many, many sins, but, ‘God commendeth His love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.’ He suffered death in our place and so He is the Lamb (the Passover Lamb) of God that taketh away the sin of the world.”
Palko suddenly hid his face in his hands. He had forgotten his friend; he was oblivious to everything but one thing, and throwing himself face down on the grass, he sobbed aloud: “Lord Jesus,” he cried, “my beloved Lord Jesus! Now I understand why the heavenly Father did not answer when you cried, ‘Why hast Thou forsaken Me?’ It was because you had to die for our sins, as the lamb died in place of those Jews. Now, now I see why you and you only, have the power to forgive our sins, our wicked sins, that were the cause of your death!”
When Palko rose from the ground he found himself alone, and in the place where Father Malina had been sitting, he found the Book still lying open at the third chapter of John.
From that day, the priest seemed more than ever absorbed in his meditations, and in prayer. Sometimes in the middle of the night Palko would wake to find a light burning in the priest’s room, and he would softly steal over to the door to find his friend on his knees.
On Saturday, at the end of the second week, Palko heard the wife of the forest guard say to her husband: “Instead of getting better, he seems to be getting worse. I’m sure his poor face gets paler every day. He seems, too, to have something on his mind, something that’s troubling him greatly. I overheard him say the other day, as I passed his door: ‘If I only knew, if I only knew — can it be that we — that we — ” but he never finished the sentence, so I don’t know what he was talking about, although I’ll admit I’m dying to know. He says he’s going to the village to preach tomorrow, but to my mind he’d be better off here in the house.”
“Look here, my dear!” said her husband, “he would no more be able to go without his preaching than I would without my gun, or you without your flat iron. There are others, I know, who wouldn’t trouble their heads much if they missed a few Sundays’ preaching, but he is too conscientious for that.”
When they went into the forest that morning, Palko said: “Is it true, sir, that there is something troubling you?”
“Who told you that, my son?”
“Something was said in the forest guard’s house that made me think so, sir,” said Palko humbly, “and the good wife there is worried at seeing you so pale and sickly too.”
“Don’t misunderstand, Palko, I am sick, but there’s no cure for this kind of sickness.”
“Not even by the power of the Lord Jesus?” said Palko, terrified, taking the pale hand of the priest in his brown ones.
“Well, of course, He would be able to cure anything, but — ”
“Then, all we need to do is to pray, for you remember, He healed all that came to Him, even the paralytic, who hadn’t even asked healing for himself. Shall we just pray and ask Him now?”
“Are you going to help me pray?” said the priest, astonished.
“Of course, just as the messenger of the Centurion did, saying to Jesus that ‘he is worthy for whom He should do this’.”
“But, please do not pray like that, for I am not worthy.”
“Well, how shall I pray? Perhaps it would be better to pray like the publican who stood afar off by the temple door, or the other one who looked at the poor publican with disdain and admired himself so much?”
“Yes, you are right, Palko, the prayer of the publican indeed is the only one that I can say.”
The priest spoke no more and returned earlier than usual to the house.
In the afternoon Palko was ready to accompany his new master to the chapel-house to spend the night there, but something seemed to trouble him.
He confided his troubles to the good wife of the house, while she was washing up the dinner dishes. “How can I go to the village with Father Malina in these clothes? Oh, if I had my new suit and hat here now, and my new shoes!” Palko was quite upset.
“Now, don’t you worry, Palko mine, I’ve thought of all that. I’ve got a suit that used to be my son’s, which I think will fit you. That will be a present for having served Father Malina so faithfully, and for your kindness in running so many errands for me.” Saying this, she produced a lovely snow-white shirt, a pair of blue trousers, and the boy’s own little jacket, which she had cleaned with such surprising results that Palko hardly knew it. Neither could he recognize himself that afternoon, when he stooped to see his little figure reflected in the pool of the brook close to the house. He polished the priest’s shoes and also his own, which had new laces that the good lady had given him as well. His heart was overflowing with happiness as they started for the village, and even the priest caught some of Palko’s joy.
“May God bless and keep you, and a million thanks, Ma’am,” Palko cried back to his hostess as they turned the bend in the path.
“Let us take the same short cuts that you and Dunaj take when you come with strawberries to the chapel-house,” said the priest.
“Oh, no!” said Palko. “That would hardly do; for the forest guard warned me not to take you by unsafe paths.”
The priest laughed. “If he could only have seen the slippery impossible places I have had to climb over on our mountain walks in order to keep up with you two. Don’t be alarmed, I’ll not betray you; I’ve had too good a time for that. Besides, it was in the most difficult places that we found the loveliest flowers. Now, before we arrive at the village, tell me something about your family.”
More than content to see his friend so cheerful, Palko hastened to tell him how, two years before, he had been brought by his grandfather, Rasga, to these mountains, and how the poor man, finding himself very ill, had returned to town to die there, leaving his small grandson in the hands of his old friend Juriga.
Father Malina listened with great interest to this story. “If your grandfather, Juriga, should die, what would you do, and where would you go?”
Palko stopped and looked with astonishment at the priest. “I suppose the Lord Jesus would come to my help, just as He did when Grandfather Rasga died. The hut on the mountainside will not be ours if Juriga should die, and the little house in the village — I will show it you as we pass by — is owned by his sons, so that I could not stay there. Perhaps I could find someone who would take me into their service. If you, perhaps, sir, should need a strong man about the house at that time, I would certainly like to be the one you choose.”
“That’s a good idea, Palko,” and the priest’s eyes twinkled. “In case your Grandfather Juriga dies before I do, you must come and stay with me and with no one else. Promise me now.”
Happy in such an arrangement for the future, Palko put his sunburnt hand into Father Malina’s delicate thin one as a sign of the pact.
The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of some of Father Malina’s parishioners, who accompanied them to the door of the chapel-house, where Palko was given a most excellent supper and a hot bath before he went to bed. He was so sleepy he could hardly say his prayers, and was soon in the land of dreams.
Awaking next morning at daybreak, Palko slid out of bed, and was putting on his clothes quietly so as not to disturb Father Malina, who had his bedroom adjoining his, when he saw his friend seated by the window in the next room with the New Testament on his lap. He was not reading, however, for his eyes were closed, a smile was on his face as if in the ecstasy of some delicious dream, and his face, usually so pale, was lit up as if the splendors of a sunrise had touched it.
The little boy slipped away noiselessly to wash himself at the well in the courtyard. After drying himself and combing his hair carefully, he stole back on tip-toe into the room. Still seated by the window, the priest had now opened his eyes and was reading softly to himself. Palko heard the words pronounced distinctly as his friend read aloud: “For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: not of works, lest any man should boast. For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works, which God hath before ordained that we should walk in them.” Then he saw his friend turn some pages and, after a short pause, heard him read the following: “Not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to His mercy He saved us, by the washing of regeneration, and renewing of the Holy Ghost.”
Palko came in quietly and seated himself on the stool at the priest’s feet.
“Good morning, sir.”
“Palko,” said his friend, passing his hand through the little lad’s hair, “it is indeed a good morning for me, the best morning I have ever known, like the one when Mary saw her risen Lord in the garden by the empty tomb.”
“So you are not sad any longer, sir?” questioned the boy.
“No, my son, on the contrary, I am happy, very happy! I can tell you why, for you and you only will understand me, and rejoice with me, for I have found this night the road to your Sunshine Country, and can at last give you a clear answer to a question you once put to me. Yes, I have received the Holy Spirit; I, too, have received the Lord into my house as Martha did, and as the drop of dew we saw on the mountain received the sun. For the Sun of Righteousness has come to dwell with me with healing in His wings. Now, Palko, just thank the Lord with me that He has pardoned all my sins, too. I have not slept all night, but it has been the most wonderful night of my life!”
After they had prayed together, Palko said: “Father, you must rest a bit or you will not be able to preach your sermon today.”
“My sermon!” said the priest, as he tenderly kissed Palko. “I shall preach today as I never have before! Now I shall speak as a true witness, and not as a pretender any more, for, like Saint Paul, I have seen the Lord in the way and the scales have dropped from my eyes. While for years like Saul of Tarsus, I blindly served an unknown God, I can now say, ‘I know whom I have believed,’ and like the man who was born blind until the Lord Jesus healed and gave him sight, ‘One thing I know, whereas I was blind, now I see.’”
But, as Palko insisted and brought him a cushion, he lay down on the sofa, and his little attendant covered him up with a heavy shawl.
As soon as his master was asleep, Palko left the room. He was just about to leave the house without breakfast, for he wanted to climb the hill to see his grandfather that morning, but the old serving maid spied him, and would not let him go until he had swallowed a generous supply of milk and carried off with him a large piece of delicious white bread.
He hurried on up the hill, for he had not seen Juriga except once or twice in passing in the last two weeks. “I have certainly missed you,” his grandfather had said to him, “but, never mind, you must do your duty to Malina, and who knows what good may come of it someday.”