As he stood beside the bed, one
saw that he must be kinsman to the man who lay upon it.
"O Bartholomew! And is this the end?" cried Don Diego,
and I knew that the stranger was that brother, Bartholomew,
for whom the Admiral longed.
These three brothers! One lay like a figure upon a tomb
save for the breathing that stirred his silver hair. One,
Don Diego, tall, too, and strong, but all of a gentle, quiet
mien sank on his knees and seemed to pray. One, Don
Bartholomew, stood like rock or pine, but he slowly made the
sign of the cross, and I saw his gray eyes fill.
It seemed to me that the Admiral's eyelids flickered.
"Speak to him again," I said. "Take his hand."
Bartholomew Columbus, kneeling in the _Cordera's_ cabin,
put his arm about his great brother. That is what he called
him,--"Christopher, my great brother, it is Bartholomew!
Don't you know me? Don't you remember? I must go to
England, you said, to see King Henry. To tell him what
you could do--what you have done, my great brother!
Don't you remember? I went, but I was poor like you who
are now Viceroy of the Indies--and I was shipwrecked
besides and lost the little that we had scraped--do you
remember?--and must live like you by making maps and
charts, and it was long before I saw King Henry!--
Christopher, my great brother! He lies like death!"
I said, "He is returning, but he is yet a long way off.
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