Taking his hand, I tried to reassure him.
"We will not despair yet," I said, "perhaps some passing ship--"
"Ship!" he cried impatiently, "don't try to console me with
empty commonplaces; you know as well as I do that there is no
chance of falling in with a passing ship." Then, breaking off
suddenly, he asked,--"How long is it since my son and all of you
have had anything to eat?"
Astonished at his question, I replied that it was now four days
since the biscuit had failed.
"Four days," he repeated; "well, then, it is eight since I have
tasted anything. I have been saving my share for my son."
Tears rushed to my eyes; for a few moments I was unable to speak,
and could only once more grasp his hand in silence.
"What do you want me to do?" I asked at length.
"Hush! not so loud; some one will hear us," he said, Towering
his voice, "I want you to offer it to Andre as though it came
from yourself. He would not accept it from me; he would think I
had been depriving myself for him. Let me implore you to do me
this service and for your trouble," and here he gently stroked my
hand, "for your trouble you shall have a morsel for yourself."
I trembled like a child as I listened to the poor father's words,
and my heart was ready to burst when I felt a tiny piece of
biscuit slipped into my hand.
"Give it him," M. Letourneur went on under his breath, "give it
him; but do not let any one see you; the monsters would murder
you if they knew it.
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