The Washington times. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1902-1939, 1923-03-25

"He is beautiful. He walks like
the son of king, though he does
not know it. He speaks very quiet
ly and so little that there must be
some great sadness in him. Per-
haps he has been robbed AMI
wronged. / must not love him, be-
cause he is Gentle. He does not
love me. Will he love me if he
remains with US? Will he remain:
/ wonder if he notices me. Per-
haps he does love met
Joel, gloomy as condemned
criminal, sick in the stomach and
with a sensation about his temples
as though they were compressed
by a hand of iron,. thought thus:
81 wish I'd never been bornl
I've got the brains of an ass. She
hasn't looked at me. I suppose
everyone knows that / was drunk
last night. But a man must do
something when he's desperate. If
/ thought she could love me I'D 90
and tear out lions heart hike that
fellow Samson. Perhaps if / told
her brother that | was brought up
strictly and had been confirmed
they might think better Of me.
Evans a. fine fellow and as
straight as spear, but wish he'd
seen more life. If he understood
he would be more sympathetic. =
Evan, bareheaded and wearing
a peasants sheepskin coat, looked
directly in front of him. His
thoughts were wOrdless, but pic
lures passed before the steady
eyes of his mind. Vague, bound
less, tawny spaces, given over to
the lion and the sun. Al swift horse
to grip between his knees. A
shimmering horizon, ever receding
like the rim of the dark,bIue sea
With Ezra thought and feeling
were almost1one. Flashes OF light.
bearing an uncomfortable golden
warmth, shuttled across his con-
seriousness. Perceptions that were
like gold-bright circles widening
outward, infinitely widening.
Pigeons futtered about the little
white domes of the housetops. In
the hidden house yards cocks
crowed. As they passed under the
straight, square arch of one of the
city's gates the hrst shining lances
of the sun Smote athWart the
mountain wall of the Moab.
From every street in the city
the procession of pilgrims had
been swelled. 1t was a horde-an
exodus. Bare-footed women wore
the white tunic, blue trousers and
red jacket of the north, or the
dark blue robe of the south, open
at the breasts. Others, in Greek
dress, were borne in chairs. There
were camels, their trappings gar
nished with a network of wooden
tassels. Patient little donkeys
with Tapping ears bearing solemn
visaged riders whose feet almost
touched the ground. Youths
walking with linked fingers and
flower placed rakishly behind the
ear. The murmur of voices, the
shuffling tramp of feet, the inter
mittent >tinkle of camel BELLS
Palms rose in clumps, inclining
gracefully this way or that. There
were plantations of orange trees,
dark and glossy masses; oleanders,
cacti and acaeias. The valley was
like a half wild flower garden.
A sense Of expectation lay upon
the whole moving horde. Even a
deaf and dumb person would hav,.
had the feeling that he was goine
toward something extraordinary.
A prophet! What was a prophet?
Evan glanced right and left at the
plodding men and women in their
foreign dress. He looked at the
palms, the unfamiliar foliage.
Ahead was the green of reed beds.
What was prophet?
Joel, occupied with his sore
head his love pangs and the vile
taste in his mouth, trudged dourIy.
A prophet to him was less than
stray tabby cat-or a reed shaken
by the wind.
The acacias, oleanders and tam
arisks fell away. Palms rose singly
from cane brakes that seemed
likely harborage for lions. In
sandy open spaces that had the air
of dry watercourses, bleached
driftwood was scattered. The
horde had reached a bed that "A
river had secured out for itself
with Spring and Autumn foods.