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 fierce blood-hound 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 splendor 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
still."

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?"