the hidden cleft of the solitary rock. The Master
hath no common love for thee."

"How knoweth thou this, my brother?"

"He is a man. I am a man. Hungry he sitteth at meat as a man. Weary
he resteth his limbs as a man. Merry he looketh upon the fair arms and
flying garments of dancers at the wedding as a man. Sad doth he grow,
and troubled, as a man. With a child held to his bosom the tenderness
of fatherhood sounds in his voice and with thee at his side the
mightiest love with which the Creator hath blessed man, toucheth his
soul. Did not the Creator so make man that it is not good for him to
be alone? None but the heathen teach contrary to the Law."

"Thy words are to my heart as a song of Zion to the captives in
Babylon. Yet would I have a sign from him."

"So do women always want signs," Lazarus laughed.

Mary rested her head against the myrtle twined support of the bower and
looked away to the sky of the setting sun--nor did Lazarus disturb her
thoughts by speaking. The hush of evening was brooding over the
distant valleys soon to be enfolded in the twilight and there was no
sound on the housetop when, a few moments later, Mary heard her name
spoken just behind her. A man had come quietly up the steps and
stopped where they opened on the roof. He wore a travel-stained
garment, carried a staff and held against one shoulder some branches of
flowering green. "Behold, I stand at the door and knock," he said, as
Mary and Lazarus with a glad cry, sprang up to greet him.

CHAPTER XIII

ORANGE BRANCHES

"The hem of thy garment is heavy with dust and thy feet are torn by
thorns," Mary said with concern. "Rest thee. I will unloose thy
shoes' latchet and Lazarus will bring thee drink. Thou art weary."

"Yea, footsore and weary. But take thou the branches of orange
blossoms. All the way from Ajalon have I carried them to make thee thy
festival _lulab_," [1] and he held the branches to her.

"The Day of Atonement did not find thee in the Temple. From Ajalon
hast thou come?" Lazarus asked.

"Yea. On the road to Ajalon there is a place of turning that doth lead
over a desert way, and rocky. But when the end is reached, there is a
valley of springs giving rise to a stream that at last findeth the
Great Sea. And in this hidden and quiet place where the wild gazelle
feedeth unharmed because there is no shedding of blood, there is a
retreat of the Essenes. Here was I. Neither in the Temple