The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson – Swanston Edition. Volume 8. Robert Louis Stevenson

touch is death,” said Matcham. “Let us run.”

      “Not so,” returned Dick. “See ye not? – he is stone-blind. He guideth him with a staff. Let us lie still; the wind bloweth towards the path, and he will go by and hurt us not. Alas, poor soul, and we should rather pity him!”

      “I will pity him when he is by,” replied Matcham.

      The blind leper was now about half-way towards them, and just then the sun rose and shone full on his veiled face. He had been a tall man before he was bowed by his disgusting sickness, and even now he walked with a vigorous step. The dismal beating of his bell, the pattering of the stick, the eyeless screen before his countenance, and the knowledge that he was not only doomed to death and suffering, but shut out for ever from the touch of his fellow-men, filled the lads’ bosoms with dismay; and at every step that brought him nearer, their courage and strength seemed to desert them.

      As he came about level with the pit, he paused, and turned his face full upon the lads.

      “Mary be my shield! He sees us!” said Matcham faintly.

      “Hush!” whispered Dick. “He doth but hearken. He is blind, fool!”

      The leper looked or listened, whichever he was really doing, for some seconds. Then he began to move on again, but presently paused once more, and again turned and seemed to gaze upon the lads. Even Dick became dead-white and closed his eyes, as if by the mere sight he might become infected. But soon the bell sounded, and this time, without any further hesitation, the leper crossed the remainder of the little heath and disappeared into the covert of the woods.