THE PEASANT.  List!  Hear ye not?

THE SOLDIER.  Again that mournful wailing of the wind.

THE PEASANT.  How came he by the curse?

THE MONK.  Know, when our Lord,
  Full weary, bore his cross to Calvary,
  He paused a moment, resting, but this Jew,
  Ahasuerus—­cursed be the name—­
  Reviled the Saviour, and commanded him
  To move away.  Whereon our blessed Lord: 
  “Because thou grudgest me a moment’s rest
  Unresting shalt thou wander o’er the earth
  Until I come.”

THE SOLDIER.  Ah, would I had been there—­
  The cursed Jew!  An arrow through his heart
  Had stopped his babbling!

THE PEASANT.  And had I been there,
  He would have felt the weight of my great fist
  Ere he had spoken twice.

[The Jew mutters indistinctly to himself in his corner.]

THE MERCHANT [in a low voice].  Dost hear the man? 
  Old gray-beard murmurs.

THE SOLDIER.  How!  Is he a Jew?

THE MERCHANT.  See how he cowers when we look at him.

THE MONK.  He is no Jew.  On this thrice-blessed night
  No Jew would dare seek shelter in Christ’s house.

THE PEASANT.  Yet they are daring—­and men tell strange tales
  Of bloody rites which they perform apart.

THE SOLDIER.  May God’s high curse rest on their scattered race!

[The Jew flashes a quick glance upon them, and then looks down again.  An unusually strong gust of wind sweeps through the hall, and strange moanings are heard in the chimney.]

THE PEASANT.  Lost souls!  Oh, Mother of Christ!

THE MERCHANT.  They wail in pain.

THE MONK [making the sign of the cross].  ’Tis but the wind—­or on this
      night mayhap
  We hear the noise of vast angelic hosts
  That sob to see our Saviour come to earth,
  A simple Babe, to suffer and to die—­
  So brother Anselm tells.

THE SOLDIER.  And what knows he
  Of angels’ doings?

THE MONK [terrified.] Still!  Thou impious man! 
  Hast thou not heard the fame of Anselm’s name? 
  A very saint on earth, his eyes behold
  Things hidden from mankind; his face doth glow
  All radiant from his visions.

THE SOLDIER.  Wretch that I am! 
  Ah, woe is me to speak thus of God’s saint.

[The deep-toned monastery bell rings.]

THE MONK.  Come, follow me.  Below us in the crypt
  The pious brethren this night have set forth
  The sacred mystery of Jesus’ birth;
  Shalt see the very manger where he lay. 
  Make haste and come.

[The company arise and pass out, all save the Jew.  The monk, last, stares at the gaunt figure a moment, opens his lips to speak, then shakes his head and departs.]

SCENE II. [AHASUERUS, alone.  He looks around him, as if to see if any remain in the room, then slowly moves toward the fireplace and holds his trembling hands before the fire.]