“Palm, bend thee! Palm, bend thee!”
But what was that, what was that? The palm leaves rustled as if a hurricane had passed through them, and up and down the long trunk traveled shudder upon shudder. And the tree felt that the little one was its superior. It could not resist him.
And it bowed its long trunk before the child, as people bow before princes. In a great bow it bent itself towards the ground, and finally it came down so far that the big crown with the trembling leaves swept the desert sand.
The child appeared to be neither frightened nor surprised; with a joyous cry he loosened cluster after cluster from the old palm’s crown. When he had plucked enough dates, and the tree still lay on the ground, the child came back again and caressed it and said, in the gentlest voice:
“Palm, raise thee! Palm, raise thee!”
Slowly and reverently the big tree raised itself on its slender trunk, while the leaves played like harps.
“Now I know for whom they are playing the death melody,” said the palm to itself when it stood erect once more. “It is not for any of these people.”
The man and the woman sank upon their knees and thanked God.
“Thou hast seen our agony and removed it. Thou art the Powerful One who bendest the palm-trunk like a reed. What enemy should we fear when Thy strength protects us?”
The next time a caravan passed through the desert, the travelers saw that the great palm’s leaf-crown had withered.