The City of Delight

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.