The keeper of the gate slid
down from the cedar block, and, laying his hand upon his beard,
said, respectfully, "Rabbi, I cannot tell you when this door first
opened in welcome to the traveller, but it was more than a thousand
years ago; and in all that time there is no known instance of a good
man turned away, save when there was no room to rest him in. If it
has been so with the stranger, just cause must the steward have who
says no to one of the line of David. Wherefore, I salute you again;
and, if you care to go with me, I will show you that there is not
a lodging-place left in the house; neither in the chambers, nor in
the lewens, nor in the court--not even on the roof. May I ask when
you came?"

"But now."

The keeper smiled.

"'The stranger that dwelleth with you shall be as one born among
you, and thou shalt love him as thyself.' Is not that the law,
Rabbi?"

Joseph was silent.

"If it be the law, can I say to one a long time come, 'Go thy way;
another is here to take thy place?'"

Yet Joseph held his peace.

"And, if I said so, to whom would the place belong? See the many
that have been waiting, some of them since noon."

"Who are all these people?" asked Joseph, turning to the crowd.
"And why are they here at this time?"

"That which doubtless brought you, Rabbi--the decree of the
Caesar"--the keeper threw an interrogative glance at the Nazarene,
then continued--"brought most of those who have lodging in the house.
And yesterday the caravan passing from Damascus to Arabia and Lower
Egypt arrived. These you see here belong to it--men and camels."

Still Joseph persisted.

"The court is large," he said.

"Yes, but it is heaped with cargoes--with bales of silk, and pockets
of spices, and goods of every kind."

Then for a moment the face of the applicant lost its stolidity;
the lustreless, staring eyes dropped. With some warmth he next said,
"I do not care for myself, but I have with me my wife, and the night
is cold--colder on these heights than in Nazareth. She cannot live
in the open air. Is there not room in the town?"

"These people"--the keeper waved his hand to the throng before the
door--"have all besought the town, and they report its accommodations
all engaged."

Again Joseph studied the ground, saying, half to himself, "She is
so young! if I make her bed on the hill, the frosts will kill her."

Then he spoke to the keeper again.

"It may be you knew her parents, Joachim and Anna