e
streets of the village, a shrieking and wailing of women's voices, a
clangor of brazen trumpets and a clashing of swords, and a desperate
cry: "The soldiers! the soldiers of Herod! They are killing our
children."

The young mother's face grew white with terror. She clasped her child
to her bosom, and crouched motionless in the darkest corner of the
room, covering him with the folds of her robe, lest he should wake and
cry.

But Artaban went quickly and stood in the doorway of the house. His
broad shoulders filled the portal from side to side, and the peak of
his white cap all but touched the lintel.

The soldiers came hurrying down the street with bloody hands and
dripping swords. At the sight of the stranger in his imposing dress
they hesitated with surprise. The captain of the band approached the
threshold to thrust him aside. But Artaban did not stir. His face was
as calm as though he were watching the stars, and in his eyes there
burned that steady radiance before which even the half-tamed hunting
leopard shrinks, and the fierce blood-hound pauses in his leap. He held
the soldier silently for an instant, and then said in a low voice:

"I am all alone in this place, and I am waiting to give this jewel to
the prudent captain who will leave me in peace."

He showed the ruby, glistening in the hollow of his hand like a great
drop of blood.

The captain was amazed at the splendor of the gem. The pupils of his
eyes expanded with desire, and the hard lines of greed wrinkled around
his lips. He stretched out his hand and took the ruby.

"March on!" he cried to his men, "there is no child here. The house is
still."

The clamor and the clang of arms passed down the street as the headlong
fury of the chase sweeps by the secret covert where the trembling deer
is hidden. Artaban re-entered the cottage. He turned his face to the
east and prayed:

"God of truth, forgive my sin! I have said the thing that is not, to
save the life of a child. And two of my gifts are gone. I have spent
for man that which was meant for God. Shall I ever be worthy to see the
face of the King?"

But the voice of the woman, weeping for joy in the shadow behind him,
said very gently:

"Because thou hast saved the life of my little one, may the Lord bless
thee and keep thee; the Lord make His face to shine upon thee and be
gracious unto thee; the Lord lift up His countenance upon thee and give
thee peace."

IN THE HIDDEN WAY OF SORR