Joseph knew not whose voice it was; he did not seek to know, and doubted not his soul rested trustfully in the arms of the Lord. He put his hand on the shoulders of his dearest one, and said softly: "Mary, awake, and be not afraid. Gather together our few possessions, put them in a sack, and I will fasten it to the beast Ishmael gave us. Then take the child. We must away."
Mary pushed her long, soft, silky hair from her face. Her husband's sudden decision, the departure in the middle of the night, made her wonder, but she said not a word. She gathered together their scanty possessions, took the sleeping child in her arms, and mounted the ass, who pricked up his ears and thought what a day's work must be before him since it began so terribly early. His former owner had not pampered him; his short legs were firm and willing. They gave one last grateful look at the cave, the stones of which were softer than the hearts of the men of Bethlehem. Joseph took his stick and a leathern strap and walked beside the ass, leading it, the ass which carried his whole world and his heaven, and—the heaven of the whole world.
After going some way, they thought to rest under some palm-trees, not far from Hebron. But the ass would not stop, and they let him have his will. Then soldiers of Herod rode that way; they saw a brown-skinned woman with a child sitting on the sand.
"Is it a boy?" they called to her.
"A girl," answered the woman. "But strangers have just passed by, and I think they had a boy with them, if you can come up with them."
And the horsemen galloped on. Meanwhile the fugitives from Nazareth had reached bad roads, and were tired and wretched. Was not Jacob's favourite son also taken into Egypt just like this child? What will become of this one? They became aware of their pursuers galloping behind over the bare plain. Not a tree, not a shrub which could afford them protection. They took refuge in the cleft of a rock, but Joseph said: "What is the use of hiding? They must have seen us." But as soon as they were well inside the dark hole, down came a spider from the mossy wall, summoned all her brood and her most distant relations in great haste, and they speedily spun a web over the opening, a web that was stronger than the iron railings in Solomon's temple, at the entrance to the Holy of Holies. Hardly was the weaving finished when the knaves came riding up. One said: "They crept into the hole in the rock."
"What!" shouted another, "no one could have crept in there since the time of David the shepherd. Look at the thick cobwebs."
"That's true," they laughed, and straightway rode off.
An old man who seemed to have risen from the grave now stood before the dusky woman who had denied her own son and betrayed the stranger wanderers. Whence he came he did not know himself. He loved the lonely desert, the home of great thoughts. He did not fear the robbers of the desert, for he was stronger than they because he had nothing. Now and again the desire came to him to behold a human face, so that he might read therein whether the souls of men looked upwards or sank downwards. The old man went up to the woman who had denied her own son and betrayed the fugitives. And he said: "Daughter of Uriah! twice have you given your son life: once through pleasure, once through a lie. So his life will be a lie. He will breathe without living, and yet he will not be able to die!"
"Mercy!" she cried.