amps. But he thought the angel who had come down was
hovering near him, and often imagined that he felt his wings fanning
his cheek.

The land through which they journeyed was barren; the plants were dried
up by the frost and were all faded. Snow lay on the summits of
Lebanon, which the travellers now saw from afar, away in their native
land, and pale gleams fell on to the lowlands of Judaea through the
cloudy atmosphere, so that stones and grass were white. When they
rested beside a brook the woman gazed thoughtfully into the pool and
said, "Look, Joseph; what are the wonderful plants and flowers on the
surface of the water?"

And Joseph said, "Haven't you ever seen them before, Mary? You are
young and have only known a few cold winters. And you don't know what
these flowers mean? Let me tell you. A maiden stands in the dawn.
Her feet are on the moon and the stars circle round her head. And
under her foot she crushes the head of the serpent who betrayed our
first parents in Paradise. And see, Spring courts the maiden and
brings her his roses. And Winter, too, courts the maiden, and because
he has no other flowers he makes these to grow on the surface of the
water and on the window-panes. But they are stiff and cold, and the
maiden, the mysterious rose, of whom a prophet sang, 'All nations shall
call thee blessed!' she chose the Spring."

That was the story Joseph told, Joseph whose beard was white as the
ice-flowers. Mary listened to the tale and was silent.

On the third day the royal city lay before our wanderers. Magnificent
it stood on the hill-top with the domes and pinnacles of its temples.
At that time Herod, king of the Jews, sat on the throne and imagined
that he ruled. But he only ruled in so far as the strangers allowed
him to rule. The town which had once been the pride of the chosen
people, now swarmed with Roman warriors, who filled the streets with
noise and unruly conduct. Joseph led his young wife down towards the
sloping rocks where were the graves of the prophets. There he was so
overcome that suddenly he stretched forth his hands to heaven:
"Almighty Jehovah, when will the Messiah come?" His cry was re-echoed
in the hollows of the rocks, and Mary said: "You should not shout so,
Joseph. The dead will not awaken, and Jehovah hears a prayer that is
quietly spoken."

Mary had hoped in her heart that they would enter Jerusalem and spend
the night there. Joseph said it could not