The palm thought that the death-song in its leaves must be for the two lonely wanderers.  They themselves surely thought that their last hour was drawing near.  One could read it in their faces when they walked past one of the skeletons of the camels that lay by the roadside.  One saw it from the glances with which they watched a couple of vultures flying past.  It could not be otherwise—­they must perish.

They had now discovered the palm in the oasis, and hastened thither to find water.  But when they at last reached it they sank down in despair, for the well was dried up.  The woman, exhausted, laid down the child, and sat down crying by the side of the well.  The man threw himself down by her side; he lay and beat the ground with his clenched hands.  The palm heard them say to each other that they must die.  It also understood from their conversation that King Herod had caused all children of two or three years of age to be killed from fear that the great expected King in Judaea had been born.

“It rustles stronger and stronger in my leaves,” said the palm.  “These poor fugitives have soon come to their last moment.”

It also heard that they were afraid of the desert.  The man said it would have been better to remain and fight the soldiers than to flee.  He said that it would have been an easier death.

“God will surely help us,” said the woman.

“We are all alone amongst serpents and beasts of prey,” said the man.  “We have no food and no water.  How can God help us?”

He tore his clothes in despair and pressed his face against the earth.  He was hopeless, like a man with a mortal wound in his heart.

The woman sat upright, with her hands folded upon her knees.  But the glances she cast over the desert spoke of unutterable despair.

The palm heard the sorrowful rustling in its leaves grow still stronger.  The woman had evidently heard it too, for she looked up to the crown of the tree, and in the same moment she involuntarily raised her arms.

“Dates, dates!” she cried.

There was such a longing in her voice, that the old palm wished it had not been any higher than the gorse, and that its dates had been as easy to reach as the red berries of the hawthorn.  It knew that its crown was full of clusters of dates, but how could man reach to such a dazzling height?

The man had already seen that, the dates being so high, it was impossible to reach them.  He did not even lift his head.  He told his wife that she must not wish for the impossible.

But the child, which had crawled about alone and was playing with sticks and straws, heard the mother’s exclamation.  The little one could probably not understand why his mother should not have everything she wished for.  As soon as he heard the word “dates,” he began to look at the tree.  He wondered and pondered how he should get the dates.  There came almost wrinkles on his forehead under the fair locks.  At last a smile passed over his face.  Now he knew what he would do.  He went to the palm, stroked it with his little hand, and said in his gentle, childish voice: