The child eagerly grasped this new plaything and turned it about in every possible way.
To the amazement of the old Jew, there was a slight sound, as of some small object rolling about in the box.
The child shouted with delight. The old man was breathless and trembling. He grasped the box convulsively from the hands of the infant, who held it out to him, smiling. He opened it. His blood froze in his veins, with an emotion not of terror but of joy and hope.
He beheld in the box a pearl, pure and more beautiful than any he had ever seen.
Speechless with emotion he could only raise his eyes to heaven in a wordless prayer of gratitude.
Then he heard a voice which seemed to fill the immensity of the desert, and nevertheless, was as low and sweet as the loving murmur of a fond mother.
"O Ben-Ha-Zelah! every tear which thou shalt dry, is a pearl which thou dost create."
Ben-Ha-Zelah looked about him. All around him was the desert. Before him, in his arms, the little babe, suddenly grown calm, and smiling in his face.
A few more days and his journey through the desert was ended. But many were the privations he endured that the helpless little infant, now so dear to him, might not want.
Ben-Ha-Zelah was rich, and now he was good. His goodness made use of his riches to dry the tears of misfortune--there are as many, alas! in this world of suffering, as there are dewdrops on a summers morning-- and very soon his box was quite full.