He turned out of the gate and crowding along by the stone wall to pass
in the opposite direction from the flood of pilgrims pouring through
Emmaus, he searched for the synagogue of the little town.
He came upon it, a solid square building of stone with an Egyptic
façade and an architrave carved with a great stone flower set in an
olive wreath. Without was the proseuchae, paved with boulders now worn
smooth by the summer sittings of the congregation who gathered around
the reader's stone. The Maccabee stopped at the gate and unlacing his
pagan sandals set them outside the threshold.
Once over the stone sill with the imminent gloom covering him, he felt
the old sanctity envelop him with a reproach in its forgotten
familiarity. Old incense, old litanies, old rites rushed back to him
with the smell of the stagnant fragrance. He heard again from the
farther depths of the dark interior the musical monotone of a rabbi
reciting a ritual. The voice was young and low. Presently he heard the
responses spoken in a woman's voice, so tender, so soft and so sad
that he sensed instantly the meaning of the sympathy in the young
priest's voice. Out of the incense-laden dusk he found old custom
stealing back upon him. His lips anticipated words unreadily; gladly
he realized that he could say these formulas, also; he had not
forgotten; he had not forgotten!
In this little synagogue in a poor town there were no privacies;
communicants had to depend on the courtesy of their fellows for
uninterrupted devotion. The wanderer had not forgotten this. So he
effaced himself in the darkness and awaited his own turn.
He hardly knew why he had come. For what should he ask--forgiveness or
for the hope of the King who was to come? What should he do--make
atonement or promises; give an offering or ask encouragement? He did
not doubt for an instant that he had done wisely in seeking the
synagogue, but what had he for it, or what had it for him?
Meanwhile the voice of the priest, disembodied in the gloom, had put
off its ritualistic tone and was delivering a charge: "Since you are in haste to reach Jerusalem, you may depart, so that
you will give me your word that you will in all faith abide upon the
road seven days; and that at the end of the separation you will
present yourselves for examination and cleansing at Jerusalem, and
that you will in nowise transgress the law of separation on the
journey hence."
The Maccabee heard the woman give her word. After a little further
communication, he heard them move toward the entrance.
The white light from the day without revealed to him in a few steps, a
veiled woman, a deformed old man and a young rabbi. He did not need to
take the evidence of her dress or of her companion to recognize under
this veil the girl whom he had won from Julian of Ephesus, in the
hills, that very morning.