The man had thrown his arms backward over the arms of the cross, and was leaning, half hanging, upon it; the young priest was inexpressibly shocked and startled by the attitude. He knew that none of the humbler inhabitants of the town would venture near such a place at such a time, nor could he think of any one else who was likely to be there. Besides, although he could not see the stranger distinctly, he himself was standing in full moonlight, and yet the man in the shadow of the cross made no sign of seeing him. At that moment he would gladly have gone home without asking further question, but that would have looked as if he were afraid.
He tried a chance remark. ‘It is a fine night,’ he said, as lightly as might be.
‘Yes,’ said the other, and moved his arms from the arms of the cross. It was only one word, but the curate recognised the soft voice at once. It was the Jewish rabbi.
‘I was at one of your services the other day,’ he said, advancing nearer.
‘Yes.’
‘I felt sorry your people did not turn out better.’
There was no answer.
‘It is a very cold wind,’ said the curate. ’I hardly know why I came out so far.’
‘Shall I tell you?’ asked the Jew softly. He spoke good English, but very slowly, and with some foreign accent.
‘Certainly, if you can.’
‘I desired very much to see you.’
’But you did not tell me, so that could not be the reason. Your will could not influence my mind. I assure you I came of my own free will; it would be terrible if one man should be at the mercy of another’s caprice.’
’Be it so; let us call it chance then. I desired that you should come, and you came.’
‘But you do not think that you have a power over other men like that?’
’I do not know; I find that with some men such correspondence between my will and their thoughts and actions is not rare; but I could not prove that it is not chance. It makes no difference to me whether it be chance or not. I have been thinking of you very much, desiring your aid, and twice you have come to me—as you say—of your own free will.’