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.

"Joseph of Nazareth and Mary his wife," one said. "Both of the line of