before him and looked at him. And she gazed and gazed at him, and
could not turn her face from him. Then she bent down and took one
little plump, soft hand and shut it into hers so that only the
finger-tips could be seen, and she lifted them to her mouth and kissed
them, and could not cease kissing the white, childish hands, the tears
running down her cheeks the while. And with her large dark eyes she
looked out into the empty air--afraid of pursuers.

Joseph walked up and down near at hand between the trees and shrubs,
but always kept mother and child in view. He was gathering dates for
their further travels.

And now new faces rise before me as they wander farther into the barren
desert, swept by the simoon, parched by the rays of the sun. Mary is
full of peace, and wraps the child in her cloak so that he rests like a
pearl in its shell. He nestles against her warm breast and sucks his
fill. Whenever Joseph begins to be afraid, he feels the angel's wing
fanning his face. And then he is full of courage and leads his loved
ones past hissing snakes and roaring lions.

After many days they reached a fertile valley lying between rocky
hills; a clear stream flowed through it. They rested under a hedge of
thorns, and looked at a terribly wild mountain that rose high above the
rest. It was bare and rocky from top to bottom, and deep clefts
divided it in its whole length, so that the mountain seemed to be
formed of upright blocks of stone, which looked like the fingers of two
giant hands placed one on the other. A hermit was feeding his goat in
the meadow, and Joseph went up to him and asked the name of the
remarkable mountain.