Stephen: A Soldier of the Cross

by Florence Morse Kingsley

The beggar stopped short and turned his head. "There was such a man," he said, "but he is dead--crucified, three months since. I never found him," he added bitterly; "I came too late." Then he went on his way, and the boy heard his shrill voice rising and falling dismally adown the street. He stood still in the place where he was, staring stupidly after the man, the words "too late" still echoing in his ears.

"Curses upon thy stupid head! Why dost thou block the roadway?" And a smart blow across his cheek from the whip of a muleteer served to bring him to his senses. At the same moment he heard a cry from Anat; looking quickly around he saw her fall to the ground beneath the hoofs of the laden ass which the man was driving.

With a shrill cry of fear the lad sprang forward, and dragged the girl out from among the confused tangle of men and animals, the muleteer shrieking curses upon him, the other passers-by merely pausing an instant to stare curiously at the scene. No one offered to help him, and cold with fear he lifted the slender form in his arms.

There was a projecting arch near by, with a great doorway sunken deep into the wall of masonry, in the shelter of this he laid his burden down, and looked into the beloved face in a very agony of terror.

"Anat! Anat!" he cried, bending over her. But there was no answer; the peach-like bloom of the brown cheeks had changed to a curious dusky pallor, the fringed lids had fallen over the sightless eyes, the slender hands were cold.

"Anat! Anat!" he repeated in a frenzy. "Awake!" and he shook her by the arm, scarce knowing what he did. "My God! if she is dead!"

Just then with a harsh sound of rusty hinges the great door behind them swung open, and a turbaned head peered cautiously out. The lad started to his feet with sudden hope. "Kind sir!" he said beseechingly. "My sister hath been grievously hurt; nay, I know not if she be alive. Wilt thou give me a cup of water that I may try and bring back her soul?"

The man looked at him coldly. "This is the house of God," he said. "'Tis not meet that its threshold be defiled with that which is dead, 'tis an abomination in the sight of Jehovah. Get thee hence, the hour for prayer draweth nigh."

"Nay, but I beseech thee, by the love of Isis! Give me but a cup--a small cup of water!"

"Get thee hence!" said the man with a gesture of abhorrence. "There is naught here for such as thou," and he made as though he would have pushed the senseless form of the blind girl into the street with his foot.