It had come; the Cure was striking his breast and
speaking quite low but with careful precision, re-
peating the simple words of his Church very slowly:
'Domine, non sum dignus. . . .' Then a sound, a
soft, secretive rustling sound like the sea slipping back
over pebbles in a mist, as the children got quietly up
from their knees and began to move forward with
bowed young heads. Then a voice, rather startled
and close to his ear — his mother's voice: cChristophe,
are you ill. . . ? It is time.'
CI cannot . . . but I cannot. . , .' he thought he
answered.
Yet he found that he must have risen after all
for now he was standing close to Jan in the nave,
then kneeling beside him at the altar rail — he could
feel the touch of his cousin's slim shoulder.
'Corpus Domini nostri Jesu Christi. . . .' Jan was
passing him the little protective platter. . . . c Corpus
Domini nostri Jesu -Christi custodiat animam tuam in
vitam aeternam.'
White with terror he received the proffered Host,
passed the platter blindly on to his neighbour, then
clung to the rail with a kind of despair — for a
moment he had the sensation of falling.
§3
The reactions of youth are not only elastic but they
strongly incline towards self-preservation; thus the
shock of that curious First Communion became less
acute as the weeks wore on and the boy's conscious
mind strove for explanations that would make the
occurrence appear more normal. He still could not
look at that Crucifixion, it is true, but must always
turn away his eyes from its infinite pathos and in-
finite horror, but when next he received the Sacra-
ment he was able to do so with comparative calmness
'327