gling we
pressed close until our eyes fell upon him in the midst of his
disciples and a throng of strangers. When I did cast my eye from him
to the other side, it fell upon a beautiful woman wearing a dull mantle
and a veil about her head. Beside her stood a massive slave with a
scar on his cheek like the cut of a thrashing scythe. And the face of
the woman and the face of the slave were set toward the Master. As she
stood, a passer-by brushed her veil from her head, when, from under her
dull cloak she did reach a hand as resplendent with jewels as the
breast-plate of the High Priest. Then her arm appeared, and, lo, it
was banded with gold and with chains of jewels, and also where the dull
garment did part I saw the sheen of rare silk and fringes of silver and
gold that glistened. Anna also saw and whispered 'Who is she?' Yet
neither the woman nor the slave saw aught but Jesus. And as they
listened to his words, tears gathered in the dark eyes of the great
slave and like rivers of water crossing a deep gorge did pass the bold
scar and drop over its edge. And as his tears fell Jesus turned to the
scarred face, and Mary--what thinkest thou? It were as though I could
read the look Jesus gave, which was writ in the light that did break
over that scarred face, making it shine like the sun. And, too, his
eye did find the woman of rich robes well concealed, and did rest on
her face, and her face gave back an answer which was none other than
that she loved him. It passed in a moment and the woman spoke to the
scarred slave who wiped the tears from that cruelly marked face, as
slowly they turned away, the slave following the woman at a distance
because of those who pushed between. And when the slave was passing
the place where Jesus stood, the Master moved near him and spoke a few
words which again did bring such a light as was a miracle on so ugly a
countenance. While he paused, the woman looked back and seeing who
spoke with her slave, waited. Then did Anna and Debora and thy sister
Martha follow them to the portico."

"Thou hast forgotten something, Martha. Of importance, it is," Mary
said.

"What is of importance?"

"The words of the Master. What said he that did hold together the
crowd, that did bring tears to the scarred face of the slave and that
did drive them away again with a glad light?"

"I know not. My eyes were too busy to give my ears a chance. At the
portico a chariot and horses were waiti