The vespers ring.  Come, join with me in prayer;
  Together let us reverence the God,
  The great all-Father, who sent unto us
  A little Child to lead us back to Him.

[The Jew acts as if he does not hear, but the monk is already at prayer and does not notice.  AHASUERUS gazes steadfastly into the fire, while all is silent but the crackling of the flames and the moaning of the wind.  Then the monk arises.]

  Pray, let me sit beside you; all alone
  My brethren left you?  Let me play the host.

[He sits down beside AHASUERUS; the Jew stares at him.]

  You seem amazed, fair sir.

AHASUERUS [slowly].  I am a Jew.

[The monk starts, then sits down again, while the Jew regards him attentively.]

ANSELM.  A Jew?

AHASUERUS [bitterly].  “Dog Jew,” they call me.

ANSELM.  God forbid! 
  Yet once I would have scorned thee like the rest. 
  But, long years past, before I sought these walls,
  Adventurous I rode into the East
  And underneath the walls of Joppa fell
  A victim to the fever.  Many days
  I lingered in its grasp, and when I woke
  To strength, I found a Jew had tended me. 
  E’en then I scorned him, but with gentle words
  He heaped great coals of fire on my head. 
  And then I dreamed a dream—­upon a cross—­
  Two other crosses near—­outlined against
  A dark and dreadful sky, I saw a man;
  And lo, it was a Jew—­Christ was a Jew. 
  With tears I sought mine host, and told the tale,
  And he was swift to pardon—­he, a Jew.

[AHASUERUS will not trust himself to reply, but gazes steadfastly into the fire.  From the adjacent chapel the low notes of an organ fall upon their ears.]

ANSELM.  You speak not.  Ah, I wonder not at it. 
  On such a night is meditation good,
  And soothing to the soul.  The wind is high
  But cannot harm; the torches flicker low,
  While softly like a benediction falls
  The distant melody upon our ears;
  And in the silent watches of the night
  God’s holy Spirit broods o’er all the world
  And bringeth calm and peace to all mankind.

AHASUERUS [wildly].  For me there is no peace—­I am the Jew
  Who, cursed of the Lord, must wander till
  He comes again.  For me no peace, forever!

ANSELM [starts].  Thou art that Jew!

AHASUERUS [despairingly].  I am that Jew.  Farewell.

[AHASUERUS pulls his cloak around him and arises to leave.  As he totters toward the door the monk looks after him irresolutely, then turns his eyes to the Virgin’s shrine as if to seek counsel.]

ANSELM [whispers to himself].  Those eyes—­still gaze—­in mercy.  A-a-h,
      methinks—­
  How sad they look!
          [aloud].  Ahasuerus!  Hold!

[ANSELM hastens after the Jew, and seeks to lead him back.  AHASUERUS resists.]