On the arrival of the priest they all got up and gathered round him; but the horse, secretly spurred by its rider, started forward towards a street on the opposite side from the church, where was the house of its master. Whereupon the master, who happened to be one of the men drinking in front of the wine-shop, came forward glass in hand and caught the animal by the bridle.
"Heh, nag, what are you thinking of? Here I am!"
The horse stopped immediately, nuzzling towards its master as if it wanted to drink the wine in his glass. The priest made a movement to dismount, but the man held him fast by one leg, while he led horse and rider in front of the wine-shop, where he stretched out his glass to a companion who was holding the bottle.
The whole crowd, men and women, now formed a circle round the priest. In the lighted doorway of the wine-shop, smiling at the scene, stood the tall, gipsy-like figure of Antiochus's mother, her face almost bronze-coloured in the reflection of the bonfires. The babies had wakened up startled and were struggling in their mothers' arms, the gold and coral amulets with which all, even the poorest, was adorned, gleaming as they moved. And in the centre of this restless throng, confused grey figures in the darkness, sat the priest high upon his horse, in very truth like a shepherd in the midst of his flock.
A white-bearded old man placed his hand on Paul's knee and turned towards the people:
"Good folk," he said in a voice shaking with emotion, "this is truly a man of God!"
"Then drink to a good vintage!" cried the owner of the horse offering the glass, which Paul accepted and immediately put to his lips; but his teeth shook against the edge of the glass as though the red wine glowing in the light of the fires were not wine, but blood.