When she was gone, Zia found that he also was kneeling.  He did not know when his knees had bent.  He was faint with ecstasy.

“She goes to Bethlehem,” he heard himself say as he had heard himself speak before.  “I, too; I, too.”

He stood a moment listening to the sound of the ass’s retreating feet as it grew fainter in the distance.  His breath came quick and soft.  The light had died away from the hillside, but the high-floating radiance seemed to pass to and fro in the heavens, and now and again he thought he heard the faint, far sound that was like music so distant that it was as a thing heard in a dream.

“Perhaps I behold visions,” he murmured.  “It may be that I shall awake.”

But he found himself making his way through the bushes and setting his feet upon the road.  He must follow, he must follow.  Howsoever steep the hill, he must climb to Bethlehem.  But as he went on his way it did not seem steep, and he did not waver or toil as he usually did when walking.  He felt no weariness or ache in his limbs, and the high radiance gently lighted the path and dimly revealed that many white flowers he had never seen before seemed to have sprung up by the roadside and to wave softly to and fro, giving forth a fragrance so remote and faint, yet so clear, that it did not seem of earth.  It was perhaps part of the vision.

Of the distance he climbed his thought took no cognizance.  There was in this vision neither distance nor time.  There was only faint radiance, far, strange sounds, and the breathing of air which made him feel an ecstasy of lightness as he moved.  The other Zia had traveled painfully, had stumbled and struck his feet against wayside stones.  He seemed ten thousand miles, ten thousand years away.  It was not he who went to Bethlehem, led as if by some power invisible.  To Bethlehem!  To Bethlehem, where went the woman whose blue robe was bordered with a glow of fair luminousness and whose face, like an uplifted lily, softly shone.  It was she he followed, knowing no reason but that his soul was called.

When he reached the little town and stood at last near the gateway of the khan in which the day-long procession of wayfarers had crowded to take refuge for the night, he knew that he would find no place among the multitude within its walls.  Too many of the great Caesar’s subjects had been born in Bethlehem and had come back for their enrolment.  The khan was crowded to its utmost, and outside lingered many who had not been able to gain admission and who consulted plaintively with one another as to where they might find a place to sleep, and to eat the food they carried with them.

Zia had made his way to the entrance-gate only because he knew the travelers he had followed would seek shelter there, and that he might chance to hear of them.

He stood a little apart from the gate and waited.  Something would tell him what he must do.  Almost as this thought entered his mind he heard voices speaking near him.  Two women were talking together, and soon he began to hear their words.