“Of course none of the us, at that time, understood his language which shuffled back and forth between English and Latin. But, we did understand the body movements and gestures he made, and his tone of voice carried the perfect reflection of his varying emotional states.
Francis dropped to his knees, but only at the conclusion of his prayer. THEN FROM HIS ROBE, HE BEGAN TO DRAW FORTH FOOD OF EVERY VARIETY AND TYPE. He arranged the food in a kind of mandala and then walked to the edge of the clearing by a large and wise oak tree (named Charles). There he sat down and began to sing again, softly.”
Vole's voice began to rise in pitch as well as volume as she reached this part of her narrative. “I,” she said with a regal humility that would have done any one of them proud, “was the very first to approach the food mandala to eat!”
(to be continued)
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