the beating heart.

Then, at last, while I was thinking of this pearl, and of its meaning,
I heard the end of the story of the Other Wise Man.



A PEARL OF GREAT PRICE


Three-and-thirty years of the life of Artaban had passed away, and he
was still a pilgrim, and a seeker after light. His hair, once darker
than the cliffs of Zagros, was now white as the wintry snow that
covered them. His eyes, that once flashed like flames of fire, were
dull as embers smouldering among the ashes.

Worn and weary and ready to die, but still looking for the King, he had
come for the last time to Jerusalem. He had often visited the holy city
before, and had searched through all its lanes and crowded hovels and
black prisons without finding any trace of the family of Nazarenes who
had fled from Bethlehem long ago. But now it seemed as if he must make
one more effort, and something whispered in his heart that, at last, he
might succeed.

It was the season of the Passover. The city was thronged with
strangers. The children of Israel, scattered in far lands all over the
world, had returned to the Temple for the great feast, and there had
been a confusion of tongues in the narrow streets for many days.

But on this day there was a singular agitation visible in the