thought, if the rungs would bear him, he might perhaps ascend it; meanwhile, he saw how an angel, robed in white, slowly descended it until he came down to where Joseph was.  But when Joseph stretched out his hand to him, the angel was no longer to be seen.  Joseph awoke, and the sweet dream filled his soul.  It was the place where once the Patriarch Jacob saw the heavenly ladder, and there it had remained ever since, so that angels might continually descend and ascend between heaven and earth.  And then they cheerfully continued their way.  Joseph was afraid when he heard the jackals shriek in the desert and saw the Bedouin camps.  But he thought the angel who had come down was hovering near him, and often imagined that he felt his wings fanning his cheek.

The land through which they journeyed was barren; the plants were dried up by the frost and were all faded.  Snow lay on the summits of Lebanon, which the travellers now saw from afar, away in their native land, and pale gleams fell on to the lowlands of Judaea through the cloudy atmosphere, so that stones and grass were white.  When they rested beside a brook the woman gazed thoughtfully into the pool and said, “Look, Joseph; what are the wonderful plants and flowers on the surface of the water?”

And Joseph said, “Haven’t you ever seen them before, Mary?  You are young and have only known a few cold winters.  And you don’t know what these flowers mean?  Let me tell you.  A maiden stands in the dawn.  Her feet are on the moon and the stars circle round her head.  And under her foot she crushes the head of the serpent who betrayed our first parents in Paradise.  And see, Spring courts the maiden and brings her his roses.  And Winter, too, courts the maiden, and because he has no other flowers he makes these to grow on the surface of the water and on the window-panes.  But they are stiff and cold, and the maiden, the mysterious rose, of whom a prophet sang, ’All nations shall call thee blessed!’ she chose the Spring.”

That was the story Joseph told, Joseph whose beard was white as the ice-flowers.  Mary listened to the tale and was silent.

On the third day the royal city lay before our wanderers.  Magnificent it stood on the hill-top with the domes and pinnacles of its temples.  At that time Herod, king of the Jews, sat on the throne and imagined that he ruled.  But he only ruled in so far as the strangers allowed him to rule.  The town which had once been the pride of the chosen people, now swarmed with Roman warriors, who filled the streets with noise and unruly conduct.  Joseph led his young wife down towards the sloping rocks where were the graves of the prophets.  There he was so overcome that suddenly he stretched forth his hands to heaven:  “Almighty Jehovah, when will the Messiah come?” His cry was re-echoed in the hollows of the rocks, and Mary said:  “You should not shout so, Joseph.  The dead will not awaken, and Jehovah hears a prayer that is quietly spoken.”