“Since you have nothing better, lie down here and rest as well as you can.  I will seek a bed at my neighbour’s.”

So saying the shepherd went away.  It had now grown dark.

The young woman lay down on the bed of leaves and heaved a sigh from her terrified heart.  Joseph looked at her—­and looked at her.  Lightly the angel’s wings touched his face.

“Joseph, be not afraid.  Lift up your heart and pray.  It is the secret of all eternities, and you are chosen to be the foster-father of Him who comes from heaven.”

He looked round him, not knowing whence came these thoughts, these voices, this wondrous singing.

“You are tired, Joseph, you must sleep,” said Mary.  And when he slumbered peacefully she prayed in her heart:  “I am a poor handmaiden of the Lord.  The will of the Lord be done.”

CHAPTER II

It is midnight and, wakeful shepherds see a bright star.  A strange star, too; they had never seen its like before.  It sparkled so brightly that the shepherds’ shadows on the plain were long.  And it is said that they saw other stars approach it, and at length surround it.  And then the new star threw off white sparks, which flew down earthwards and stopped in mid-air; and there were children with white wings and golden hair.  And they sang beautiful words to the honour of God and the good-will of men.

In that selfsame hour a boy brought tidings that a tall, white-robed youth stood in front of the shepherd Ishmael’s cave, and that within lay a young woman on the bed of leaves, an infant at her breast.  And high up in the air they heard singing.

The story quickly spread through the mountains round Bethlehem.  The shepherds who were awake roused those who slept.  Everywhere a delicious tremor was felt, a sense of mighty wonder.  A poor, strange woman and a naked child!  What was the use of singing?  Swaddling clothes and wraps and milk were what was needed.  One brought the fleece of a slaughtered sheep.  Another brought dried figs and grapes and a skin of red wine.  Other shepherds brought milk and bread and a fat kid; every one brought something, just as they took tithes to the officer.  An old shepherd came with a patched bagpipe, and when the bystanders laughed, Ishmael said:  “Do you expect our poor, good Isaac, to bring David’s golden harp?  He gives what he has, and that’s often worth more than golden harps.”

When they came down they no longer saw the star or the angels, but they found the cave, and the father and the mother and the child.  He lay in the manger on the hay, and the beasts stood round and gazed at him with their big, melancholy, black eyes.  The shepherd’s pity for the poor people was so great that no one thought he was doing a good work for which people would praise him and God would bless him.  No one looked slyly at his neighbour to see who gave more and who less.  Their one feeling was pity.