to
Naomi," he thought. He knew that was folly, but he could not restrain
his mind from foolishness. And at least she had the same moon and stars
above her sleep, for she would be sleeping now. "I am coming," he cried.
He fixed his eye on the bright star in front and pushed forward, never
resting, never pausing.

The morning dawned. Long rippling waves of morning air came down the
mountains, cool, chill, and moist. The grey light became tinged with
red. Then the sun rose somewhere. It had not yet appeared, but the peak
of the western hill was flushed and a raven flew out and perched on the
point of light. Israel's breast expanded, and he strode on with a firmer
step. "She will be waking soon," he told himself.

The world awoke. From unseen places birds began to sing--the wheatear
in the crevices of the rocks, the sedge-warbler among the rushes of the
rivers. The sun strode up over the hill summit, and then all the earth
below was bright. Dewdrops sparkled on the late flowers, and lay like
vast spiders' webs over the grass; sheep began to bleat, dogs to bark,
kine to low, horses to cross each other's necks, and over the freshness
of the air came the smell of peat and of green boughs burning. Israel
did not stop, but pushed on with new eagerness. "She will have risen
now," he told himself. He could almost fancy he saw her opening the door
and looking out for him in the sunlight.

"Poor little thing," he thought, "how she misses me! But I am coming, I
am coming!"

The country looked very beautiful, and strangely changed since he saw
it last. Then it had been like a dead man's face; now it was like a face
that was always smiling. And though the year was so old it seemed to
be quite young. No tired look of autumn, no warning of winter; only the
freshness and vigour of spring. "I am going to see my child, and I shall
be happy yet," thought Israel. The dust of life seemed to hang on him no
longer.

He came to a little village called Dar el Fakeer--"the house of the poor
one." The place did not even justify its name, for it was a cinereous
wreck. Not a living creature was to be seen anywhere. The village had
been sacked by the Sultan's army, and its inhabitants had fled to the
mountains. Israel paused a moment, and looked into one of the ruined
houses. He knew it must have been the house of a Jew, for he could
recognise it by its smell. The floor was strewn over with rubbish--cans,
kettles, water-bottles, a woman's handker