Read Online Matilda Bone by Karen Cushman - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Karen Cushman
Ads: Link
or—"
"Superstitions," said Doctor Margery. "Useless superstitions. Medicine teaches us that the eyes send unseen visual rays out to an object. If these rays are disturbed—by wine, women, baths, leeks or onions, by garlic, mustard seed, fire, light or smoke, dust, pepper, or beans—the sight fails."
The goose girl's opinions? Surely Nathaniel would laugh at her, but to Matilda's surprise he asked, "This then is what ails me?"
Margery shrugged. "It could also be a test from God, some foreign substance in the eye, or a cancer in the brain. Most likely it is because you are old, Nathaniel, and your eyes are wearing out like the soles of your shoes."
Master Nathaniel sat silent.
Matilda imagined his eyes fading from summer-sky blue to gray and misting over with blindness. She felt sadness, and the feeling frightened her. It was the sign of an earthly attachment. Father Leufredus would surely disapprove. Still, there it was, sadness, and another feeling she did not recognize. The nameless feeling tightened her chest, tickled her throat, and made her long to touch Nathaniel gently, the way Peg did. She thought of all the words that might describe this new feeling—compassion, pity, sympathy, mercy—but decided it was best said in Latin:
misericordia,
distress of the heart.
Chapter Ten: Doing her Best
Lightning split the sky, followed by a great clap of thunder and a torrent of soft raindrops. There was a sweet smell in the air. Spring was but a promise, but a promise was better than winter.
Matilda was alone, Peg off seeing to Grizzl, when a man came seeking Peg, his right hand cradled in his left, pain in his eyes. Stephen Bybridge, for that is what he was called, living as he did near the bridge to the eastern part of town, said, "My hand aches some'ut fierce and prickles run up and down my arm, like bugs was dancin' on it, but I can see no bugs. Might Mistress Peg know what is wrong?"
"Mistress Peg is from home," Matilda said. She was about to bid him come another day when she thought,
I have learned well from Father Leufredus. Surely with his knowledge I can be useful.
To Stephen Bybridge she, eager yet a bit apprehensive, said again, "Mistress Peg is from home, but
I
will do what I can."
She prayed silently to saints known to listen favorably to petitions from the faithful. She recalled the Latin words for hand
(manus)
, arm
(brachium)
, pain
(dolor)
, even bugs
(formicae
—well, truly that was ants, but was the closest Matilda could come at the moment). She tried to remember what Thomas Aquinas and Saint Augustine might have said about hands and arms, but recalled only texts about resting in the hands of God. Comforting, but no help for Stephen Bybridge.
She thought of the saints in Heaven who suffered withered arms, useless arms, missing arms. Were they cured? How? Was any saint ever cured of an aching hand? She could not think of one. She could think of no saint with bugs or prickles on his arm, although Saint Mark was said to be effective against fly bites. Disheartened, she admitted that what she had learned from Father Leufredus was no help here. She gave up trying her learning and her Latin. She would try what she had learned so far from Peg.
Carefully she examined Stephen's hand, his arm, his elbow. She felt his forehead. Very gently, she moved his hand around. Then she looked at him, sat back, looked at the ceiling, and looked at him again.
"I do not know what to do now," she admitted. "I do not know. Best you wait for Mistress Peg."
Soon enough Mistress Peg arrived. "I tried to help him, Mistress Peg," said Matilda. "I tried everything I know but could not." She shook her head sadly.
"Knowing is not enough. You must also listen and look," said Peg, hanging her cloak on its hook. "What did you ask him?" Matilda was silent. "Well, look at him. What do you see?"
"I see an oldish man in a dusty tunic and worn boots of hard leather, with brown hair, a hopeful face, and a hand that pains him."
"Let
"Superstitions," said Doctor Margery. "Useless superstitions. Medicine teaches us that the eyes send unseen visual rays out to an object. If these rays are disturbed—by wine, women, baths, leeks or onions, by garlic, mustard seed, fire, light or smoke, dust, pepper, or beans—the sight fails."
The goose girl's opinions? Surely Nathaniel would laugh at her, but to Matilda's surprise he asked, "This then is what ails me?"
Margery shrugged. "It could also be a test from God, some foreign substance in the eye, or a cancer in the brain. Most likely it is because you are old, Nathaniel, and your eyes are wearing out like the soles of your shoes."
Master Nathaniel sat silent.
Matilda imagined his eyes fading from summer-sky blue to gray and misting over with blindness. She felt sadness, and the feeling frightened her. It was the sign of an earthly attachment. Father Leufredus would surely disapprove. Still, there it was, sadness, and another feeling she did not recognize. The nameless feeling tightened her chest, tickled her throat, and made her long to touch Nathaniel gently, the way Peg did. She thought of all the words that might describe this new feeling—compassion, pity, sympathy, mercy—but decided it was best said in Latin:
misericordia,
distress of the heart.
Chapter Ten: Doing her Best
Lightning split the sky, followed by a great clap of thunder and a torrent of soft raindrops. There was a sweet smell in the air. Spring was but a promise, but a promise was better than winter.
Matilda was alone, Peg off seeing to Grizzl, when a man came seeking Peg, his right hand cradled in his left, pain in his eyes. Stephen Bybridge, for that is what he was called, living as he did near the bridge to the eastern part of town, said, "My hand aches some'ut fierce and prickles run up and down my arm, like bugs was dancin' on it, but I can see no bugs. Might Mistress Peg know what is wrong?"
"Mistress Peg is from home," Matilda said. She was about to bid him come another day when she thought,
I have learned well from Father Leufredus. Surely with his knowledge I can be useful.
To Stephen Bybridge she, eager yet a bit apprehensive, said again, "Mistress Peg is from home, but
I
will do what I can."
She prayed silently to saints known to listen favorably to petitions from the faithful. She recalled the Latin words for hand
(manus)
, arm
(brachium)
, pain
(dolor)
, even bugs
(formicae
—well, truly that was ants, but was the closest Matilda could come at the moment). She tried to remember what Thomas Aquinas and Saint Augustine might have said about hands and arms, but recalled only texts about resting in the hands of God. Comforting, but no help for Stephen Bybridge.
She thought of the saints in Heaven who suffered withered arms, useless arms, missing arms. Were they cured? How? Was any saint ever cured of an aching hand? She could not think of one. She could think of no saint with bugs or prickles on his arm, although Saint Mark was said to be effective against fly bites. Disheartened, she admitted that what she had learned from Father Leufredus was no help here. She gave up trying her learning and her Latin. She would try what she had learned so far from Peg.
Carefully she examined Stephen's hand, his arm, his elbow. She felt his forehead. Very gently, she moved his hand around. Then she looked at him, sat back, looked at the ceiling, and looked at him again.
"I do not know what to do now," she admitted. "I do not know. Best you wait for Mistress Peg."
Soon enough Mistress Peg arrived. "I tried to help him, Mistress Peg," said Matilda. "I tried everything I know but could not." She shook her head sadly.
"Knowing is not enough. You must also listen and look," said Peg, hanging her cloak on its hook. "What did you ask him?" Matilda was silent. "Well, look at him. What do you see?"
"I see an oldish man in a dusty tunic and worn boots of hard leather, with brown hair, a hopeful face, and a hand that pains him."
"Let
Similar Books
