The young mother laid the babe in its cradle, and rose to minister to the wants of the strange guest that fate had brought into her house.  She set food before him, the plain fare of peasants, but willingly offered, and therefore full of refreshment for the soul as well as for the body.  Artaban accepted it gratefully; and, as he ate, the child fell into a happy slumber, and murmured sweetly in its dreams, and a great peace filled the quiet room.

But suddenly there came the noise of a wild confusion and uproar in the streets of the village, a shrieking and wailing of women’s voices, a clangor of brazen trumpets and a clashing of swords, and a desperate cry:  “The soldiers! the soldiers of Herod!  They are killing our children.”

The young mother’s face grew white with terror.  She clasped her child to her bosom, and crouched motionless in the darkest corner of the room, covering him with the folds of her robe, lest he should wake and cry.

But Artaban went quickly and stood in the doorway of the house.  His broad shoulders filled the portal from side to side, and the peak of his white cap all but touched the lintel.

[Illustration:  “There is none here save me”]

The soldiers came hurrying down the street with bloody hands and dripping swords.  At the sight of the stranger in his imposing dress they hesitated with surprise.  The captain of the band approached the threshold to thrust him aside.  But Artaban did not stir.  His face was as calm as though he were watching the stars, and in his eyes there burned that steady radiance before which even the half-tamed hunting leopard shrinks, and the fierce bloodhound pauses in his leap.  He held the soldier silently for an instant, and then said in a low voice: 

“There is no one in this place but me, and I am waiting to give this jewel to the prudent captain who will leave me in peace.”

He showed the ruby, glistening in the hollow of his hand like a great drop of blood.

The captain was amazed at the splendour of the gem.  The pupils of his eyes expanded with desire, and the hard lines of greed wrinkled around his lips.  He stretched out his hand and took the ruby.

“March on!” he cried to his men, “there is no child here.  The house is still.”

The clamour and the clang of arms passed down the street as the headlong fury of the chase sweeps by the secret covert where the trembling deer is hidden.  Artaban re-entered the cottage.  He turned his face to the east and prayed: 

“God of truth, forgive my sin!  I have said the thing that is not, to save the life of a child.  And two of my gifts are gone.  I have spent for man that which was meant for God.  Shall I ever be worthy to see the face of the King?”

But the voice of the woman, weeping for joy in the shadow behind him, said very gently: 

“Because thou hast saved the life of my little one, may the Lord bless thee and keep thee; the Lord make His face to shine upon thee and be gracious unto thee; the Lord lift up His countenance upon thee and give thee peace.”