The rabbi had made an attempt to raise himself, but had paused transfixed. Humility made an actual light on his forehead; his pinched features were stunned with helplessness.
The terrified Levites crept closer to one another, but Joel finally wet his dry lips and spoke in a half-whisper:
"Rabbi?"
There was no answer in words, but slow tears rose, brimmed over the lids and crept down the sun-burned hollow cheeks.
The young stranger came quickly and knelt beside the rabbi and laid a kindly hand on his shoulder.
"Brother Saul?" he whispered.
The face of the rabbi came round, but the gaze missed its mark and wandered over the men about him. There was no vision in the eyes.
"He is blind!" a Levite whispered.
The young stranger slipped the hand from the shoulder around the bowed figure, and, supporting Saul in his arm, looked down with infinite sorrow and concern at the darkened eyes.
"We will abide here," he said at last, to the Levites, "until the noon passeth."