T [crossing himself]. Hark to the wind. Meseemeth that it wails
Like some lost soul.

THE SOLDIER. Some say it is the soul
Of that accursed Jew who crossed our Lord
When he was on his way to Calvary,
And was condemned to wander ever more
Until the Christ a second time should come.

[The faces grow solemn, in the fire-light, and the voices are
lowered.]

THE MONK. The Jew! Oft have men seen him bent and worn,
When darkness fills the earth, still wandering,
Still living out his curse.

THE PEASANT. List! Hear ye not?

THE SOLDIER. Again that mournful wailing of the wind.

THE PEASANT. How came he by the curse?

THE MONK. Know, when our Lord,
Full weary, bore his cross to Calvary,
He paused a moment, resting, but this Jew,
Ahasuerus--cursed be the name--
Reviled the Saviour, and commanded him
To move away. Whereon our blessed Lord:
"Because thou grudgest me a moment's rest
Unresting shalt thou wander o'er the earth
Until I come."

THE SOLDIER. Ah, would I had been there--
The cursed Jew! An arrow through his heart
Had stopped his babbling!

THE PEASANT. And had I been there,
He would have felt the weight of my great fist
Ere he had spoken twice.

[The Jew mutters indistinctly to himself in his corner.]

THE MERCHANT [in a low voice]. Dost hear the man?
Old gray-beard murmurs.

THE SOLDIER. How! Is he a Jew?

THE MERCHANT. See how he cowers when we look at him.

THE MONK. He is no Jew. On this thrice-blessed night
No Jew would dare seek shelter in Christ's house.

THE PEASANT. Yet they are daring--and men tell strange tales
Of bloody rites which they perform apart.

THE SOLDIER. May God's high curse rest on their scattered race!

[The Jew flashes a quick glance upon them, and then looks down again.
An unusually strong gust of wind sweeps through the hall, and strange
moanings are heard in the chimney.]

THE PEASANT. Lost souls! Oh, Mother of Christ!

THE MERCHANT. They wail in pain.

THE MONK [making the sign of the cross]. 'Tis but the wind--or on this
night mayhap
We hear the noise of vast angelic hosts
That sob to see our Saviour come to earth,
A simple Babe, to suffer and to die--
So brother Anselm tells.

THE SOLDIER. And what knows he
Of angels' doings?

THE MONK [terrified.] Still! Thou impious man!
Hast thou not heard the fame of Anselm's name?
A very