The Blue Flower [44]
the soldiers of
Herod! They are killing our children."
The young mother's face grew white with terror. She
clasped her child to her bosom, and crouched motionless in the
darkest corner of the room, covering him with the folds of her
robe, lest he should wake and cry.
But Artaban went quickly and stood in the doorway of the
house. His broad shoulders filled the portal from side to
side, and the peak of his white cap all but touched the
lintel.
The soldiers came hurrying down the street with bloody
hands and dripping swords. At the sight of the stranger in
his imposing dress they hesitated with surprise. The captain
of the band approached the threshold to thrust him aside. But
Artaban did not stir. His face was as calm as though he were
watching the stars, and in his eyes there burned that steady
radiance before which even the half-tamed hunting leopard
shrinks, and the bloodhound pauses in his leap. He held the
soldier silently for an instant, and then said in a low voice:
"I am all alone in this place, and I am waiting to give
this jewel to the prudent captain who will leave me in peace."
He showed the ruby, glistening in the hollow of his hand
like a great drop of blood.
The captain was amazed at the splendour of the gem. The
pupils of his eyes expanded with desire, and the hard lines of
greed wrinkled around his lips. He stretched out his hand and
took the ruby.
"March on!" he cried to his men, "there is no child here.
The house is empty."
The clamor and the clang of arms passed down the street
as the headlong fury of the chase sweeps by the secret covert
where the trembling deer is hidden. Artaban re-entered the
cottage. He turned his face to the east and prayed:
"God of truth, forgive my sin! I have said the thing that
is not, to save the life of a child. And two of my gifts are
gone. I have spent for man that which was meant for God.
Shall I ever be worthy to see the face of the King?"
But the voice of the woman, weeping for joy in the shadow
behind him, said very gently:
"Because thou hast saved the life of my little one, may
the Lord bless thee and keep thee; the Lord make His face to
shine upon thee and be gracious unto thee; the Lord lift up
His countenance upon thee and give thee peace."
IV
Again there was a silence in the Hall of Dreams, deeper and
more mysterious than the first interval, and I understood that
the years of Artaban were flowing very swiftly under the
stillness, and I caught only a glimpse, here and there, of the
river of his life shining through the mist that concealed its
course.
I saw him moving among the throngs of men in populous
Egypt, seeking everywhere for traces of the household that had
come down from Bethlehem, and finding them under the spreading
sycamore-trees of Heliopolis, and beneath the walls of the
Roman fortress of New Babylon beside the Nile--traces so faint
and dim that they vanished before him continually, as
footprints on the wet river-sand glisten for a moment with
moisture and then disappear.
I saw him again at the foot of the pyramids, which lifted
their sharp points into the intense saffron glow of the sunset
sky, changeless monuments of the perishable glory and the
imperishable hope of man. He looked up into the face of the
crouching Sphinx and vainly tried to read the meaning of the
calm eyes and smiling mouth. Was it, indeed, the mockery of
all effort and all aspiration, as Tigranes had said--the cruel
jest of a riddle that has no answer, a search that never can
succeed? Or was there a touch of pity and encouragement in
that inscrutable smile--a promise that even the defeated
should attain a victory, and the disappointed should discover a
prize, and the ignorant should be made wise, and the blind should
see, and the wandering should come into the haven at last?
I saw him again in an obscure house of Alexandria, taking
counsel with a Hebrew rabbi. The venerable man, bending over
the rolls of parchment on which the prophecies of Israel were
Herod! They are killing our children."
The young mother's face grew white with terror. She
clasped her child to her bosom, and crouched motionless in the
darkest corner of the room, covering him with the folds of her
robe, lest he should wake and cry.
But Artaban went quickly and stood in the doorway of the
house. His broad shoulders filled the portal from side to
side, and the peak of his white cap all but touched the
lintel.
The soldiers came hurrying down the street with bloody
hands and dripping swords. At the sight of the stranger in
his imposing dress they hesitated with surprise. The captain
of the band approached the threshold to thrust him aside. But
Artaban did not stir. His face was as calm as though he were
watching the stars, and in his eyes there burned that steady
radiance before which even the half-tamed hunting leopard
shrinks, and the bloodhound pauses in his leap. He held the
soldier silently for an instant, and then said in a low voice:
"I am all alone in this place, and I am waiting to give
this jewel to the prudent captain who will leave me in peace."
He showed the ruby, glistening in the hollow of his hand
like a great drop of blood.
The captain was amazed at the splendour of the gem. The
pupils of his eyes expanded with desire, and the hard lines of
greed wrinkled around his lips. He stretched out his hand and
took the ruby.
"March on!" he cried to his men, "there is no child here.
The house is empty."
The clamor and the clang of arms passed down the street
as the headlong fury of the chase sweeps by the secret covert
where the trembling deer is hidden. Artaban re-entered the
cottage. He turned his face to the east and prayed:
"God of truth, forgive my sin! I have said the thing that
is not, to save the life of a child. And two of my gifts are
gone. I have spent for man that which was meant for God.
Shall I ever be worthy to see the face of the King?"
But the voice of the woman, weeping for joy in the shadow
behind him, said very gently:
"Because thou hast saved the life of my little one, may
the Lord bless thee and keep thee; the Lord make His face to
shine upon thee and be gracious unto thee; the Lord lift up
His countenance upon thee and give thee peace."
IV
Again there was a silence in the Hall of Dreams, deeper and
more mysterious than the first interval, and I understood that
the years of Artaban were flowing very swiftly under the
stillness, and I caught only a glimpse, here and there, of the
river of his life shining through the mist that concealed its
course.
I saw him moving among the throngs of men in populous
Egypt, seeking everywhere for traces of the household that had
come down from Bethlehem, and finding them under the spreading
sycamore-trees of Heliopolis, and beneath the walls of the
Roman fortress of New Babylon beside the Nile--traces so faint
and dim that they vanished before him continually, as
footprints on the wet river-sand glisten for a moment with
moisture and then disappear.
I saw him again at the foot of the pyramids, which lifted
their sharp points into the intense saffron glow of the sunset
sky, changeless monuments of the perishable glory and the
imperishable hope of man. He looked up into the face of the
crouching Sphinx and vainly tried to read the meaning of the
calm eyes and smiling mouth. Was it, indeed, the mockery of
all effort and all aspiration, as Tigranes had said--the cruel
jest of a riddle that has no answer, a search that never can
succeed? Or was there a touch of pity and encouragement in
that inscrutable smile--a promise that even the defeated
should attain a victory, and the disappointed should discover a
prize, and the ignorant should be made wise, and the blind should
see, and the wandering should come into the haven at last?
I saw him again in an obscure house of Alexandria, taking
counsel with a Hebrew rabbi. The venerable man, bending over
the rolls of parchment on which the prophecies of Israel were