They were talking low and eagerly. “Thinkest thou, Rachel,” with a touch of scorn, “that the Lord would send an angel in these times and to us as he did to our fathers?”
She was sweetly reasonable. “Then how dost thou explain the fire with no one near it the night when I thought I should die with the cold; and this leopard’s skin we found next morning near the embers; and the food—so much we have had enough and to spare; and the water-skin filled with life-giving water for which we thirsted; and even these strips of cloth to bind up our bleeding feet, cut on the sharp rocks, bruised on the rough road? Nay, no matter what thou sayest, Nathan, I have learned that Jehovah is merciful and gracious, full of loving-kindness and tender mercies with which we have been surrounded. Indeed, now that our perils are nearly over, I feel that all I have gone through hath been but a spiritual experience. The Lord hath been my strength, just as Miriam told me, and he is about to become my song. Soon we shall reach the home of my kinsman, Ezekiel, where we shall not only be safe and well cared for ourselves, but he will know what to do concerning Miriam.”
“Look out, Rachel!” Nathan was glaring after a man with a heavy load who had stumbled against them. “A good thing it is that the road is straight and smooth. Keep thou close to me and watch thy steps.”
They had need to. As they proceeded the travel increased. They were jostled; they jumped quickly out of the way of those who rode, only to be pushed in another direction by those who walked; they met frowns and ill-natured remarks and, what was harder to bear, smiles and unmistakable jests. They had about concluded that Might rather than Right was the rule of the highway when their opinion was confirmed. As they came within the shadow of the city gates, but before they could enter, they were espied by a gay party, looking for sport.
By the very simple device of joining hands, a circle was formed around the two unfortunates and they were thus entirely at the will of their tormentors. Nathan’s rage and Rachel’s entreaties merely added to the amusement. The circle advanced and retreated, dragging its victims along with it. They were mimicked with exaggerated pantomime. They were forced into ridiculous and undignified postures. One, bolder or more facetious than the rest, indulged in hair-pulling and pinching.
The roars of laughter attracted the attention of passers-by, who joined the gathering, some to jeer and encourage, others to inquire and protest. The crowd grew, the noise increased, the road was obstructed and, trying to force a passage, many came to angry arguments and finally to blows. The excitement was quelled only by the arrival of soldiers, who finally hurried to the scene and in no gentle manner dispersed the mob. To Rachel, bruised and humiliated, this was a welcome relief. She did not notice the curious gaze of the soldiers, the changing expression on the face of one, nor that another looked at her intently for a moment, then, urging his horse to full speed, set off in the direction of the House of Naaman.
Nathan, with wits sharpened by terror, lost none of these things nor a host of others, and hastily came to the conclusion that their deliverance was cause only for additional fear. He clutched Rachel’s hand: “We must go back as we came. Hearest thou? We cannot go into the city to-day. Dost thou not see that these are the soldiers from whom we escaped? They will know me and guess whom thou art, even without thy veil.”
He was violently pulling backward; the crowd, so long detained and anxious to make up for lost time, surging forward. As well try to stem the Jordan with bare hands! They were swept apart, and before Rachel realized it, she stood within the portals of Damascus, dismayed and alone. With Miriam in captivity and Nathan lost, it was more than ever imperative that she find Ezekiel and that without delay, but how? She stood at one side of the busy footway, anxiously waiting to see if Nathan would join her. When he did not and she found herself again attracting attention, she singled out one in the hurrying throng and appealed to him timidly: “Canst thou direct me to the House of Ezekiel in the street of the merchants of Israel?”
The man looked at her, shook his head, and answered in a language she did not understand. Others she tried, but with no better success. They were not unkind, merely uncomprehending—and indifferent. Peradventure if she walked along slowly, constantly seeking, constantly asking, she might—she must—somewhere discover one of her own people, or at least one whose speech was the same as her own. Already the sun was casting long shadows and with a sinking heart Rachel proceeded on her way, never seeing a soldier who followed her cautiously and at a safe distance. He also watched the sun. At last he approached near enough to hear her question, put now not so much with timidity as with desperation. He addressed her in her own tongue: “I know the man thou seekest. Thou hast but to come with me.”
Although his pronunciation was distinctly bad, she turned with pleasure at the words, but at sight of the speaker she shrank back, shivering.