note: A Stranger Cometh]

On the day when this story begins a man was standing on the summit of
the mountain looking across the sea in the direction where you will
find Tyre and Joppa on the map. He was, very plainly, not one of the
peasants who lived on the mountain-side. He looked about sixty years
of age; he was tall and erect, though he carried a staff in his hand.
His hair and beard were long and flowing, and almost gray, but his eye
was clear and penetrating, and he was looking across the sea as though
he expected some one to appear.

And while he stood there gazing seaward, there appeared a second man
on the summit, helping himself up with his staff, and panting with the
effort of the long climb. From his dress and manner it was plain that
this man, too, was not one of the peasants, for, like the first comer,
he seemed to belong to another age and clime. The two men glanced at
each other and gave such greeting as strangers might who should meet
in so solitary a spot as a mountain summit. Then both lapsed into
silence and looked off across the sea.

[Sidenote: And Findeth a Friend]

Presently the last comer seemed to awake from his reverie. He walked
over to the place where the other man was sitting, still gazing off
toward Joppa, and touched him on the shoulder: "A thousand pardons, my
friend," he said, "but my mind is haunted with some far-off
recollection, as though in some other land and some far-off time I had
seen thy face. Wilt thou have the kindness to tell me thy name?"

Without lifting his eyes from the sea, and in a tone which seemed
regretful and sad, the stranger replied: "My name is Gaspard."

[Sidenote: A Far-off Pilgrimage Recalled]

"Gaspard! Indeed, then have I seen thee! Look at me, my friend; dost
thou not remember me? My name is Melchoir. Dost thou not recall that
time, how long I know not, when thou and I and Balthazar followed a
star which led us to a little Jewish hamlet, thou bearing gold and I
frankincense, and Balthazar myrrh? Dost thou not remember how, on the
long journey thither, we talked about the young Prince, whom we
expected to find in a royal palace, and how at last when we reached
the village, following the star, we were led not to a palace but to a
little inn, and not even to a room within the inn, but to the
stable-yard, where we found a sweet-faced woman bending over a babe
cradled in a manger; and standing near, a sturdy peasant, proud and
happy, whose name was Jose