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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76998 ***
+
+
+
+
+
+_JONAH_
+
+
+
+
+  _Books by ROBERT NATHAN_
+
+  [Illustration]
+
+  AUTUMN: _A novel_
+
+  THE PUPPET MASTER: _A novel_
+
+  YOUTH GROWS OLD: _A book of verse_
+
+
+
+
+  JONAH :: :: _by_
+  ROBERT NATHAN
+
+  ROBERT M. McBRIDE & COMPANY
+  NEW YORK  :: :: :: :: ::  1925
+
+
+
+
+  JONAH BY ROBERT NATHAN WAS FIRST PRINTED AND PUBLISHED IN NINETEEN
+  HUNDRED AND TWENTY-FIVE IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA AND IS
+  COPYRIGHTED NINETEEN HUNDRED AND TWENTY-FIVE BY ROBERT M. MC BRIDE
+  AND COMPANY
+
+
+
+
+  _To_
+  ALICE AND ARTHUR CARNS
+
+
+
+
+JONAH
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+
+In those days there were prophets in Israel. They lived in the desert,
+beyond the Jordan, in caves and in rude huts made of clay and mats.
+There were many holy men among them, whose ears had been pierced by the
+sweetness of God’s voice and whose eyes had been dazzled by the fiery
+appearance of His angels. They were like the saints to whom in later
+times the Virgin Mary used to come with eyes melting with tenderness,
+and who used to perform such astonishing miracles in the desert near
+Thebes. Theirs was an holy and severe life, made anxious by the sins of
+the Jews, whose punishment they prophesied in tones of great bitterness
+and haunting sadness.
+
+Surrounded by gloomy rocks, they beheld visions, and conversed with
+angels. They shared their meals with the lions of the desert, with
+such birds and beasts as foxes, gazelles, snakes, mice, and ravens.
+Many of these were holy beings; more than human, but less than divine,
+they were obliged to eat, and devoured with shy and reverent looks the
+food set apart for Jehovah.
+
+It was a life of poverty, of danger, and of glory. In the silence
+of the desert the prophets drew together in an austere community.
+Those returning from lands across the Jordan brought back news to the
+Schools. It was said that Amos of Tekoa had spoken at Bethel; standing
+in the presence of King Jeroboam, surrounded by the proudest nobles,
+he had prophesied the doom of Israel. Two angels attended him while he
+spoke, and collected the drops of moisture which fell from his brow.
+
+Thereafter an earthquake, followed by a drought, destroyed the crops of
+Israel and Judah.
+
+When Jonah, the prophet, heard this news, he left his hut in Golan, and
+taking his stick and a gourd filled with water, set his face southward
+toward the Land of Tob. He walked from dawn to dusk; his thoughts were
+grave, and his expression serious. As evening fell he found himself
+beside a little pool in the desert; here he sat down to rest. The sky
+was green with early night; the evening star, smaller than the moon
+and silver as a distant sea, sailed above Sharon. Before him lay the
+desert, heavy with silence, drenched with the cold dew of evening.
+Jonah shivered, and drew his cloak closer about him.
+
+As he sat there, his head bowed upon his hand, a fox came out of a hole
+and, seeing Jonah, exclaimed,
+
+“There is the man of God.”
+
+Touched and astonished at this mark of recognition, Jonah offered the
+little animal some meal with which he had expected to make his own
+supper. Then the fox lay down beside Jonah and remarked,
+
+“I am not a theologian. So I do not understand the wars of Judah and
+the other tribes. However, I would like to ask you something. When I go
+down into my hole, God goes down after me. What I want to know is this:
+is He a Jew, or a fox?”
+
+Jonah answered as he had been taught in the Schools: “God has the
+appearance of a man. From His beard, which extends to His feet and is
+divided into thirteen portions, fall drops of gracious balm; and from
+His mouth proceed the names of all things. His angels also appear as
+men, with long white wings, and faces shining with light.” And he gazed
+at the little animal in a kindly manner.
+
+“Well,” said the fox, “a beard or a tail, that is merely a matter of
+direction.” So saying, he put his head down between his paws, and fell
+asleep. Jonah also slept, watched by the stars, and by an angel, who
+said to him just before dawn:
+
+“Arise, Jonah, and hasten to Bethel. Say to King Jeroboam, ‘Against the
+insolence of Hamath, Israel shall prevail once again.’”
+
+Jonah immediately awoke, and gave thanks to God. Then he took leave
+of the fox, who said to him, “I dreamed that God was a raven, and was
+giving me some sharp pecks with His beak.”
+
+In the gray light of dawn Jonah started toward the hills which guard
+the Jordan. He breathed the pure air of the desert, sweet with desert
+flowers, fresh and cold as water; he lifted his face to the western
+sky, into which night was retreating like a storm; and his heart sang.
+
+“God will redeem Israel through me,” he thought.
+
+At noon he entered the valley of Jezreel, on the other side of the
+Jordan. There the fig trees were in blossom, and their scent mingled
+with almonds in the air. At every village he saw roadside altars
+above which were erected rude copies of the golden bulls of Tyre. The
+afternoon sun cast sinister shadows behind them, and Jonah averted his
+face as he went by.
+
+He stayed that night near Joseph’s Well, in the cottage of a poor
+herdsman. A faint and holy glow illuminated one corner of the kitchen
+where the prophet lay, while the wide wings of seraphim, like slow
+birds, beat overhead through the darkness. In the morning the herdsman,
+who had not slept all night, hurried out to purify himself in the river
+from such close contact with divinity.
+
+When Jonah arrived at Bethel, he went at once to the house of the High
+Priest Amaziah. A servant admitted the prophet, dusty with travel, into
+the presence of his master. And Jonah gazed proudly and without fear at
+the priest.
+
+Amaziah, High Priest of Israel, was a churchman; therefore he disliked
+confusion. For that reason also he detested the prophets who he felt
+were unable to understand the problems of administration. Seated upon
+a bench of ivory, he gazed wearily at Jonah before addressing him in
+these terms:
+
+“I do not know your name, but from your gloomy countenance covered with
+hair, I can see that you are a prophet from Golan, or the Land of Tob.
+And I suppose that you have come, like all the others, to tell me that
+God admires Judah more than Israel. In that case I must say to you what
+I said to Amos: ‘Go south, to Jerusalem, and prophesy in Judah, because
+what you have to say does not amuse me.’”
+
+Jonah replied simply, “I must speak at Bethel, because that is what God
+told me to do.”
+
+But he added that he did not intend to prophesy another earthquake, as
+Amos had done. “What I have to say,” he declared, “concerns Israel,
+and Hamath in the north.”
+
+At this the High Priest looked pleased. “So,” he said; “well, that is
+better.” And he regarded Jonah with a kindlier expression.
+
+But presently he burst out again in an exasperated voice: “You prophets
+do not understand the difficulties of my position. You imagine that
+because I am High Priest, I should be able to control the forms in
+which the people of Israel worship the Divinity. Nothing is more
+improbable, seeing that every one has his own idea of what is truly
+noble.”
+
+To this outburst Jonah replied, with dignity: “Still, the God of the
+Jews does not look like a bull, or a little dove. It is a sin to
+worship such things.”
+
+Amaziah gave utterance to a long sigh. “My son,” he said gently, “I
+see that you are like all prophets, which is to say that you are
+impractical. Otherwise you would know that it is impossible not to
+worship the Divinity in some form or other. And since He refuses to
+reveal Himself in His proper form, one is left to imagine Him in any
+form one pleases. That is a great mistake, in my opinion; but it is
+God’s mistake, not mine. I cannot help it if the inhabitants of Dan,
+who are mostly farmers, admire the dignified mien of a bull, or if the
+villagers of Asher, who are lazy and uxorious, choose to worship the
+Divine Power in the form of a dove.”
+
+“The dove and the bull,” declared Jonah, who remembered what he had
+studied in the Schools, “belong to the moon and to the sun. God, having
+created man in His Own image, necessarily has the form of a man. He
+is bearded; and His face shines with wisdom and benevolence. He also
+created the animals, but He created them in the image of animals. That
+is the important thing to remember in dealing with such matters.”
+
+But Amaziah replied that Jonah was an idealist. “You will understand,”
+he said, “when I tell you that idealism is something to which close
+attention to the disputes and duties of the Temple does not dispose me.
+We churchmen are obliged to be practical. The important thing is that
+there should be uniformity. And that is impossible where one person
+must be right, and the other wrong. I am not here to help men argue,
+but to help them agree. Many trees bear fruit upon this earth, my
+friend; the leaf is different, but a tree is a tree. So let us all be
+right, or at least as many of us as possible.”
+
+Jonah remained silent and gloomy; he respected the Law, and did not
+know how to reply to Amaziah. The old priest regarded him in a more
+genial manner, and continued:
+
+“However, these pastoral matters need not concern you. You are a
+prophet, not a priest, a messenger, not an interpreter. That is
+something you prophets could learn to your advantage.
+
+“Tell me what tidings you bear the King. You speak of Hamath, and the
+Aramæans; is it possible that you know of some conspiracy in the north
+of which your rulers are ignorant?”
+
+Jonah replied that as far as he knew, the Aramæans were peaceful, and
+their army was unprepared. “An angel appeared to me in a dream,” he
+declared. “This angel was more beautiful than I can say, and had long
+white wings which kept up a slow movement in the air. I could wish that
+the women of Israel had such wings, which lend to the figure a charm
+that cannot be described. The beauty of that angel caused my heart to
+overflow with grief and longing.”
+
+And he remained silent, lost in painful memories. He resumed:
+
+“In a voice of heavenly sweetness I was told to arise, and bidden to
+say to King Jeroboam, ‘Against the insolence of Hamath, Israel shall
+prevail once again.’ When I awoke I found on the ground a white feather
+which shone like snow. I picked it up, and put it beneath my cloak.”
+And he held out to Amaziah a white feather about a foot long.
+
+“Here is the proof,” he said, “of what I have told you.”
+
+Amaziah reverently received the angelic token, which he put to his nose
+and carefully tasted with his tongue, before remarking, “It does not
+surprise me, seeing the marvelous economy of Heaven, that the wings
+which support the angels should be not unlike those on which the snowy
+herons sail so majestically above the hills. However, as the king and
+his nobles might consider this feather a trifle too light to support
+so august a body as an angel through the air, let me place this sacred
+relic in the Tabernacle, and give you, instead, the feather of an
+eagle, which has a more important look. Do not draw back in dismay, my
+son; in dealing with simple minds, a certain amount of ingenuity is
+needed. It is a characteristic which has distinguished the Jews in the
+past even more than their valor. I have only to remind you of David’s
+treaties with the Philistines, and the manner in which the heroic Jael
+divorced the head of Sisera from his Canaanite body. It is upon such
+stratagems as these, added to the irresistible power of the Lord, that
+the glory of Israel depends.”
+
+He sat for a brief space, his head sunk forward upon his breast in
+meditation. Presently he said thoughtfully:
+
+“After all, there is nothing like a war to draw together a nation’s
+diverse elements. The trouble with Israel is that her wars have been
+so often civil wars. Civil wars are of no value, since they destroy
+uniformity; they are, besides, inclined to be a little half-hearted,
+seeing that the vanquished do not expect to be plundered, raped, and
+murdered with the same methodical energy by their own people as by
+strangers.”
+
+And he added humbly, “Is it likely that God in His infinite wisdom
+should see this any less clearly than I do?”
+
+When Jonah had supped on lettuce, olives, and wine, he left his host
+and went out to walk in the city. The night was cold, and the odor of
+the streets mingled with the sweet aroma of earth. He filled his lungs
+with the clear air of the hills, stained by the smoke of fires and the
+sour smell of wine; he heard about him in the gloom the lazy hum of the
+city, the faint, sharp chime of voices, far-off cries, the crowing of a
+cock, the creak of a water-wheel.
+
+He thought, “Here is thy home, O Israel, in the land of thy God.”
+
+And he gazed in silence and with a heart overflowing with reverence at
+the sky, blue with night, above the roofs of Bethel.
+
+In the morning, pale but confident, he presented himself before the
+king.
+
+Seated upon a golden throne in his palace of broadstone, his hair and
+beard glistening with oil, and surrounded by proud and bearded nobles,
+Jeroboam listened with attention to what the prophet had to say.
+
+Then he asked for the opinion of Amaziah, who stood at the side of the
+throne. The old priest hesitated a moment, before replying in a grave
+voice:
+
+“Who am I to question the will of the Almighty? A war against Aram is
+a holy war, since God Himself desires it. This prophet speaks in a
+voice of heavenly wisdom. I foresee that your soldiers will rush with
+impetuous enthusiasm upon a foe by no means prepared to defend himself.
+I shudder to think of such carnage. However, your commands are mine, O
+King.”
+
+So saying, he withdrew. Jeroboam then passed around a large feather
+given him by Jonah as proof of his prophetic mission. A noble who
+looked after the royal falcons remarked,
+
+“This indeed must be the feather of an angel, for it is larger than
+that of an eagle, which it favors in color, although it is more divine
+in appearance.”
+
+The king next asked for the opinion of Ahab, who owned a great deal of
+land bordering on the country of Aram. This prince, whose beard curled
+like an Assyrian’s, spoke without hesitation in favor of war. In a dry
+voice he declared,
+
+“It stands to reason that God would prefer His own people to have the
+pasture lands which obviously belong to them, according to geography,
+history, and the opinion of every right-minded person. I only wonder
+that He did not think of it before.”
+
+The young prince Absalom, who had more than fifty wives, exclaimed in
+ringing tones,
+
+“I am in favor of war, to teach these barbarians to know and worship
+the God of the Jews.” And he held up his sword, the handle of which was
+carved to represent the Adonis of Sidon, to whose inexhaustible vigor
+the prince sacrificed, every spring, a ram and a cock.
+
+This speech of Absalom’s was received with acclaim by the nobles. The
+next day the armies of Israel, led by the king, and accompanied by more
+than a thousand priests of Adonis, Astarte, Kemosh, Melcarth, the local
+Baalim, and the Holy Ark, set out for the frontiers of Aram.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+Night came gently down over Israel. The darkness of earth slid like
+a shadow across the rocks stained by the sunset. Calm and deep the
+sea of Cinnereth reflected the stars whose lights gleamed upon the
+trans-Jordanic hills. There the desert slept; while in the north the
+lights of Tyre shone upon the sea.
+
+The village herds returned from their pastures. Then the roads
+of Zebulon resounded with the tonk of bells, as the cows with
+sweet-smelling breath wound down from the hills. The day was over, and
+their stalls awaited them. Melancholy and austere, they parted from
+each other without regret.
+
+Aaron, the brother of Jonah, walked behind them. In his hand he carried
+a rod with which he beat now and then upon the flanks of the animals
+nearest him. Then they rushed forward, clumsily, to avoid the blows
+which fell upon them without force.
+
+The young man enjoyed this hour of the day, when he strode home through
+the village, driving the herds before him. He was proud to be in charge
+of the village cows. His mother also was proud of him; she foresaw an
+important future for him. “Always do your best,” she said. “However,”
+she added, “do not tire yourself out. And in case of robbers, or a
+lion, please come home; and do not make a fool of yourself.”
+
+“Well,” the young man would say, twirling his stick, “we’ll see about
+that.”
+
+Aaron did not think that his brother led a very sensible life. To live
+all alone in the desert seemed to him a nonsensical thing to do, and
+he felt sure that his mother agreed with him. Else why did she shake
+her head so sadly, and heave such a sigh, when she spoke of her eldest
+son? As a matter of fact, she relived in Jonah, but very faintly, the
+dreamy, mild, religious ecstasy of her maidenhood. That was all over
+for her now; life had long ago got down to being practical. Besides,
+one did not hear so much about God as when she was a girl. Still, she
+remembered the beauty of those times, when her heart beat with joy
+and love, when a sweet unrest brought her to her knees, and she felt
+through her prayers the breath of holiness upon her cheek.
+
+No, one did not hear nowadays so much about God. Take Aaron, for
+example: as he came home from the pastures at evening, he bent his
+head before the golden bull which adorned the wayside shrine. In the
+spring he enjoyed the feasts of the Passover; and he also enjoyed the
+celebrations in honor of Astarte and Adonis, in company with the other
+young men of the village. The problems of theology did not concern him;
+he simply wished to enjoy himself, and to get on in the world. To
+do that, one did something about it; one began by taking care of the
+village herds. Then one could look confidently to the future, and leave
+God to dispute with other people about what He looked like.
+
+When the last of the cattle was safely housed, Aaron turned back to his
+own home, and entering the yard gate, walked toward the kitchen from
+whose open door a rosy glow spread over the yard. Jonah was at home;
+and Aaron stood a moment in the doorway, gazing with a smile at his
+mother, who was preparing supper. Deborah kept one eye on the oven,
+and the other on her elder son, who, with a small cake of bread in his
+hand, was relating to her some incidents of the Aramæan campaign. She
+wished to know if Hamath was as large as Salem, or Bethel.
+
+“It is larger than Bethel,” replied Jonah, “but not as large as
+Jerusalem.” Deborah sighed happily; it was something to have traveled
+as much as that.
+
+“The armies of Aram,” said Jonah, biting into the coarse bread, “were
+drawn up in a truly terrifying array. I saw a number of men seated upon
+ostriches, so I knew that we were obliged to battle against demons. Not
+in the least frightened, our men rushed at the foe in an irresistible
+manner. Nevertheless, they would have been beaten, and were already
+in flight, when the High Priest Amaziah appeared upon a nearby hill,
+and announced that the King of Aram with all his generals had been
+consumed by a thunderbolt. At this our men decided to turn once more
+upon the foe, who retreated in confusion, and we rushed triumphantly
+forward into the enemy’s camp, where we surprised and killed a number
+of generals, including the King of Aram, and his High Priest.
+
+“When our victorious armies arrived at the gates of Hamath, Prince
+Absalom came out to greet us, accompanied by the women of the town
+bearing flowers and bowls of wine for our thirsty soldiers. This noble
+prince, disguised as a Syrian, had left the battle-field before the
+armies had begun to fight, and had gone quietly off to prepare our
+welcome in the city, where he knew a number of prominent people. It is
+faith joined to foresight of this nature that has made Israel great.”
+
+He was silent; the light from the oven glowed upon his face, which
+shone with enthusiasm and love. He thought to himself, “All Israel
+resounds with my glory. There is a new prophet; and his name is Jonah.”
+
+And he added, humbling himself before God,
+
+“I understand that this is Your doing.”
+
+Anxious that Deborah should know of his part in his country’s history,
+he mumbled shyly, with his mouth full,
+
+“The King considers me a greater prophet even than Amos of Tekoa.”
+
+“Well,” said Deborah sensibly, “why not?” Coming up to Jonah, she
+smoothed his hair with her hand, and gazed at him anxiously. “What
+a trouble you are to me,” she said gently; “making wars and such
+mischief. Well....”
+
+Seeing her younger son standing in the doorway, she called to him:
+“Come in, Aaron, here is your brother Jonah. He has just made a war.
+Tschk ... you would think there was nothing but fighting in the world.”
+
+Aaron came into the room, and went up to Jonah with frank curiosity. He
+wished to know all about it, and he asked innumerable questions. When
+he learned that Jonah had not brought home any gold ornaments, or rich
+shawls, he was disappointed.
+
+“No, really,” he exclaimed, “what is the good of a war like that?” And
+he sat sulkily down in a corner.
+
+But Deborah took Jonah’s part. “No, Aaron,” she said, “that would be
+all right for you; if you made a war, I should expect you to come home
+with something, a colored shawl for me, or some gold bracelets. But
+Jonah is different; and living in the desert, the way he does, gives
+him ideas. Better a war far away, like this one, than like what we
+used to have in your father’s time, right under my nose, killing and
+fighting all day long.”
+
+She turned to Jonah with a sigh. “Why,” she exclaimed, “did you choose
+the Aramæans to make a war with? Such wild people.” She shook her head
+ruefully. “Always trouble,” she decided; “never what would be sensible.
+
+“At any rate,” she wound up, “perhaps you’ll settle down now for a
+while and let your mother look after you, instead of living all alone
+in a desert with foxes.
+
+“Ak, what an old coat you have.”
+
+She went back to her oven with a smile; cheerful and loving, she found
+in everything some cause for satisfaction, or at least hope, if she was
+given time enough. And she sang now, under her breath, as she always
+did when she was disturbed or happy--for happiness or sorrow, either
+one, disturbed only a little her amiable, confused spirit:
+
+  “_Men dead long ago
+    Have set me like a tree.
+    Let the wind blow,
+    What is that to me?
+    My roots are in their dust,
+    My roots are deep, I trust.
+    My son is at my knee._”
+
+Jonah looked at her with a gloomy but tender expression. “Mother,” he
+said, “what is the matter with my coat? Because it is old? It does me
+very well. Must I also be a beauty, to suit you?”
+
+After supper Deborah’s brother David came in to see Jonah. He also
+wished to know about the war, concerning which he had heard rumors.
+
+“Well,” he said to his sister, “so we have actually a prophet in our
+family. I congratulate you. We could afford to give a little party in
+honor of this.”
+
+And he looked around him with pride.
+
+“No, really,” cried Jonah; “what an idea.” He blushed to think of it.
+But his uncle peered angrily at him from under his shaggy eyebrows.
+
+“So,” he said slowly, “that is the kind of prophet you are, then. You
+think only of yourself, but what about your family? Do you imagine we
+have so many opportunities to give feasts, and call in the neighbors?
+Or have you done something to be ashamed of? When an honor comes to
+us, that is the time to talk about it.”
+
+Aaron agreed with his uncle, although he did not see what they had to
+be proud of. “We are no better off than before,” he complained, “seeing
+that Jonah brought home nothing with him from the war.”
+
+“What?” exclaimed Uncle David. “What a pity.” He wagged his old head
+meditatively. “There it is,” he said; “times change, whether you like
+it or not. When I was a young man it was entirely different. Feasts,
+festivals.... I can tell you, we knew how to enjoy ourselves. And
+what is more, we were religious; it was not like to-day. At any rate,
+children were respectful, and considered their parents; when they went
+to a war, they brought something home.”
+
+And he lamented the decay of Israel’s greatness.
+
+But Deborah put in a good word for her son. “If he brought me nothing,”
+she said, “it was because he knows that really I am satisfied with
+what I have, and besides there was nothing there which caught his
+fancy.”
+
+“The old days are no more,” said David, and relapsed into gloomy
+silence.
+
+Aaron, who had been growing restless in his corner, got to his feet.
+“Mother,” he said, “I am going out for a while, to see some of my
+friends.”
+
+“Again,” cried Deborah, “so soon, when your brother has just come home,
+and Uncle David is here? Aaron, no....”
+
+“I will go with him,” said Jonah quietly; “I should like to visit old
+Naaman, who lives at the edge of the village. Do you remember, Mother,
+how I used to go there when I was young; and I have not seen him in
+many years.”
+
+“Yes,” said Deborah with a smile, “it is true; I remember, you were
+always there; whenever I could not find you, I had only to look for you
+in Naaman’s house, and there you were. Go along, but do not be late;
+and”--she added in a whisper--“when you come home I will have some food
+set out for you.”
+
+She turned sternly to her younger son. “Aaron,” she said, “please do
+not get into any fresh mischief with your friends. Perhaps you would
+do better to go with your brother; it would do you good for a change
+instead of running up and down the village with nobody knows who.”
+
+Her gaze followed her sons with tender anxiety across the threshold.
+
+“So thin he looks,” she murmured; “and his cloak is so tattered;
+really, I am ashamed. But what can I do; I have nothing; and he is so
+proud, besides.”
+
+And she smiled at her brother, with a tear shining in her eye.
+
+Jonah and Aaron walked along in silence, under the dark boughs of
+trees. At last Aaron remarked: “Well ... you see ... you have made a
+start now with things. The desert is all very well for old men. But
+what sort of life is that, after all?”
+
+And in an embarrassed manner he took his leave of Jonah, and went off
+to join his companions, whose voices could be heard raised in youthful
+laughter among the shadows.
+
+Jonah stood leaning upon his staff in the darkness. A few lights
+gleamed among the trees, whose branches bent above him as though to
+envelope him in their quiet embrace. The odors of night crept around
+him; he remembered his youth, spent in this village, and he felt in
+his heart a longing for that lonely boy whose only friends had been
+an old man and his own dreams. So much of life had gone by, yet here
+he was again, wearier, wiser, still led by hopes, of what he did not
+know, hurt by memories, but why he could not tell. He heard the voices
+of Aaron and his friends fading in the distance; he knew that in the
+shadows young lovers whispered together, although he could not see
+them. All about him trembled the happy laughter of youth, the peace of
+age, the quietness of rest after labor. The sky of heaven, shining with
+stars, bent upon his home a regard of kindness; and the wind, moving
+through the sycamores, spoke to him in the accents of the past.
+
+Bowing his head upon his breast, he thought, “Jonah, Jonah, what have
+you done with your youth?”
+
+Slowly, and with halting steps, he approached the house of Naaman, at
+the village edge.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+He found his old teacher seated beneath an acacia tree whose branches
+perfumed the air. A beam of light from the house, falling among the
+leaves, touched Naaman’s white hair and his long, snowy beard with a
+gentle gleam. That was how his pupil had remembered him, the picture of
+wisdom and peace. He greeted Jonah with affection, but without surprise.
+
+“It is you, my son,” he said. “I am glad to see you again. Your fame
+has spread, for I heard of you, no later than to-day, as the young
+prophet who had inspired the king at Bethel.”
+
+And he added gayly, “Come, sit here beside me, and tell me about
+yourself. As you see, my tree is blossoming again. Thus, at the end of
+my life, it is vouchsafed me to behold each year the return of spring
+and the marriage of earth with the Eternal One.”
+
+“I do not know what you mean by the Eternal One,” said Jonah; “for all
+the gods are immortal and eternal. It is only you and I, Naaman, who
+grow older each year. But I am glad to see that you are well, and to
+know that your tree is blossoming.”
+
+Naaman replied gently, “My son, you have traveled, and you have learned
+something. Have you not learned that there is only one God? Did you not
+learn that in the desert, Jonah?”
+
+“No, Naaman,” said Jonah gravely, “I have not learned it. I have been
+in the desert, where God is. And I have also been in Tyre in the month
+before our Passover, when the quail return in great numbers to mourn
+the death of a god. I will tell you something about Tyre: there, before
+they are married, the maidens sacrifice their hair to Astarte. You
+should travel, Naaman, and hear of other gods.”
+
+“I do not need to travel,” replied Naaman; “here in this quiet garden
+the sun sets and the moon rises; the breeze of evening whispers through
+the leaves of my acacia tree, and I see through the branches the stars
+which have not changed; I hear the voices of cicada, shrill and sad,
+as when I was a boy, I hear the herds winding down from the hills. All
+is as it was and as it will be; and my heart overflows with love and
+peace.”
+
+Jonah shrugged his shoulders. “That is all very well for you,” he
+repeated, “but when one goes about, as I do, one sees many strange
+things. In Aram, for instance, there are gods which look like snakes.
+But it is possible to charm them with a flute. What has that to do with
+the God of the Jews?”
+
+“Were you not also in Aram?” asked Naaman quietly. “Yet you are a Jew.”
+
+“I was with the army ...” said Jonah.
+
+But Naaman broke in, continuing: “Do you imagine that God would be
+content with a few tribes and a strip of sea-coast on this earth, which
+He created with so much trouble? Such an idea is highly improbable.
+Moreover, there is a regularity about the seasons which would be
+impossible in the case of a number of gods.”
+
+But Jonah shook his head. “That is all nonsense, Naaman,” he said. “I
+cannot understand it. Why should God send the Jews to take the country
+and the flocks of the Aramæans, if they already belong to Him? And if
+there is no other God but Israel’s God, then who created the other
+people of the earth? You see into what difficulties an idea of this
+sort inevitably leads you. There is no doubt that our God is the true
+God, but to say that He is the only God does not seem to be justified,
+in the light of history.”
+
+“What do we learn from history?” asked Naaman. “Little enough and
+nothing to our credit. The golden calf of Og has grown to be a bull.
+Well, so much for history.”
+
+But Jonah replied discontentedly, “That is all very well theologically
+speaking, but you lose sight of the problems of administration.” And he
+repeated to Naaman what Amaziah, the High Priest, had told him.
+
+“After all,” he said, “men must worship God in some form or other.”
+
+But Naaman replied with grave anxiety:
+
+“That is not the voice of Jonah that I hear. My son, do not let
+yourself be persuaded by those to whose ears the divine speech has
+never penetrated. God does not speak in the Temple, but in the silence
+of the heart. The hearts of His prophets are His tabernacles. There, in
+the quiet, in the hush of lonely piety, He speaks to Israel in tones
+of sorrow and command. Let us keep His tabernacles holy and austere. Go
+back to the desert, Jonah; and do not meddle with the affairs of this
+world.
+
+“Go back to the desert, my son.”
+
+Jonah remained silent for a moment, gazing out at the soft spring night
+with its faint shine and shadow of leaves. At last he said slowly,
+“Well, of course, after a while....” But he thought to himself, “Must I
+hurry? A little holiday will not do me any harm.
+
+“I thought,” he said doubtfully to Naaman, “that I might stay a few
+days with my mother, who is growing old, and who after all does not see
+so much of me.”
+
+But Naaman shook his head. “My son,” he said, “you cannot have both
+heaven and earth. If you are so fortunate as to count angels among your
+friends, it is because you have no mother and no brother. Be lonely,
+and content; and do not turn back to this life so full of passion and
+injustice. Grief and joy are not for you, Jonah; they are nothing for a
+prophet. The desert is your home; do not go too far away from it.”
+
+“You are right, Naaman,” said Jonah, after a while; “one must not get
+too far away from the desert.” He rose to go, helping himself to his
+feet with his staff. “Good-by,” he said, “my teacher and my friend.
+Once again you convince me, a little against my will. As of old, I
+leave you, filled with a peace which is not entirely happy.”
+
+And embracing his old teacher, he set off for his mother’s house
+through the night.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+Prince Ahab lived in a palace of stone and fragrant cedarwood, on a
+hill above the village of Gath-Hepher, and almost within sight of the
+little cottage occupied by Jonah’s mother. The prince, whose large
+holdings in the North had increased in value due to the success of
+the war in Syria, surrounded himself with every luxury. Nevertheless,
+in the midst of jewels, silks, slaves, and the richest perfumes, he
+himself remained simple and straightforward. Of a martial, almost to
+say gloomy appearance, he affected the stern manners of the Assyrians,
+with whose thick gold fringes he decorated his cloak and his girdle.
+He was heavy, but he was vigorous and active; like the nobles of
+Assur, he took endless pleasure in hunting, for which he imported
+blooded falcons and swift horses from Iran. He lived in the saddle;
+and he complained of the degeneracy of Israel. “Effeminate people,” he
+exclaimed, “you do not exercise enough.” And the sleepy citizens of
+Bethel would be awakened by the trampling of horses and the sound of
+horns, as Ahab rode out at dawn to hunt boar in the forests of Baal
+Hazor.
+
+In the afternoon, while the king deliberated with his nobles upon
+affairs of state, Ahab dozed. Upon being reminded of the presence
+before the council of important matters, he remarked that he had been
+out riding. And he exclaimed with enthusiasm:
+
+“Exercise is the thing.”
+
+An old woman by the name of Sarah kept house for him in his palace
+of cedarwood and broadstone. She was sharp and severe, but she knew
+her own value. By noticing the faults of other people, she kept her
+self-respect. She managed the house and the slaves, and acted as nurse
+to Ahab’s niece, his sister’s child, Judith.
+
+Judith at sixteen possessed a voluptuous body, a pious spirit, and an
+inexperienced mind. Her gentle soul united in itself the gay ardors of
+a child with the cloudy desires of a woman. Everything surprised her,
+and everything pleased her; she was anxious to know everything, and she
+knew nothing. Eager and trusting, her brown eyes explored with sympathy
+but without understanding the life she saw all about her. She was happy
+and dreamy by turns; but sometimes at night her pillow was wet with
+tears. She would have said that something beautiful had made her cry,
+perhaps a thought, perhaps a feeling. But she could not have explained
+what it was, not even to Sarah, to whom she told everything. Perhaps it
+was the moonlight in the courtyard, and the scent of jasmine or lotus
+from the garden. But that was lovely; why should it make her cry? Such
+things perplexed her.
+
+Sometimes she wished she were a boy, so that she might go hunting with
+her uncle. Then she saw herself seated on a white horse, with her green
+cape blowing in the wind, galloping and shouting. But at the thought
+of piercing an animal with her spear, she turned away with quick
+displeasure. “No,” she thought, “I should not like to go hunting.”
+
+And she told her uncle that she was glad she was a girl. “So am I,” he
+replied, “because if you were a boy, I should be disgusted with you.”
+He loved his niece, but he liked people to be active and hardy. “The
+women of to-day,” he often said, “do not amount to much.
+
+“They have no enthusiasm.”
+
+Now Judith sat before her bronze mirror, twisting her long brown hair
+into plaits. As she sat, she sang:
+
+  “_My love is a shepherd in Sharon,
+    By rivers he waters his sheep,
+    Blue are the waters of Sharon,
+    Rivers of Sharon are deep._”
+
+She knew no one in Sharon. Nevertheless her nurse said to her angrily,
+“Now tell me, what sort of song is that for a young girl to sing?”
+
+Judith replied that it was just a song. She added with a smile, “You
+are vexed because you do not know any shepherds, and because you have
+no lover.”
+
+“That is my own business,” said Sarah, drawing herself up with dignity.
+“However, I must say that it does not become you to speak of things
+like that. What do you know about love? Nothing, I sincerely hope. You
+should be thinking of marriage, with respectful modesty.”
+
+“Well,” said Judith, “as a matter of fact, I think love is silly. It
+does not interest me, really. Were you ever in love? Tell me honestly,
+Sarah; I cannot imagine such a thing.”
+
+Sarah gazed gloomily at her mistress. Presently a blush overspread her
+sallow countenance. “In love?” she exclaimed; “certainly not. With
+what, if I may ask? The trouble with you is that your head is full of
+nonsense. When I was your age I had more decorum. I was prettier than
+I am to-day, and I attracted the attention of a very handsome man, a
+camel driver, but such a wild one. He was not good enough for me, and I
+sent him about his business. I knew my own worth.”
+
+So saying she tossed her head, with an air. But Judith clapped her
+hands. “A camel driver,” she exclaimed, “why, Sarah, you never told me.
+Did he take you up on his camel? Just think, how delightful. That’s
+really life, isn’t it, Sarah?”
+
+“Ak,” cried the nurse, “where do you get such ideas?”
+
+And turning to Prince Ahab, who was entering the room at that moment,
+she exclaimed,
+
+“God knows who puts such things into her head.”
+
+Prince Ahab replied, with a discouraged gesture, “Do not ask me, Sarah,
+for I do not know who puts anything into people’s heads nowadays. I
+assure you, the entire world is mad. Do you know what the king is
+doing, now that the war is over? You would think he would be getting
+ready for the next one. Not at all; he prefers to discuss the marriage
+laws with Prince Absalom. What a state of affairs. Do not expect me to
+know what makes a young girl foolish besides.”
+
+“I am not foolish, Uncle,” said Judith; “when I am older, I shall be
+just as wise as you or Sarah.”
+
+“Be respectful to your uncle,” said Sarah.
+
+Ahab shrugged his shoulders. “No one is respectful any more,” he said;
+“I simply wonder that people do not go around with their fingers
+actually to their noses. But, then, with so many prophets filling the
+air with groans and complaints.... Amos, Joel, Hosea, they are enough
+to fill the mind of anybody with disrespect.”
+
+“And Jonah?” asked Judith.
+
+Ahab replied gravely: “Jonah is not like the others. He comes of a
+worthy family of Zebulon; as a matter of fact, his home is here in this
+village. So, you can see, there is something to him. His brother is the
+village herdsman. Yes, Jonah is quite a different thing altogether.”
+
+Judith looked lazily at her face in the mirror. “Tell me what he is
+like,” she said.
+
+“What’s that to you?” asked Sarah. She added that she supposed he was
+old and had a long white beard.
+
+“No,” replied Ahab, “he is not old. He is young, and enthusiastic. His
+eyes seem to burn. He is a little thin, but one can understand that,
+living in the desert, and probably starving most of the time. It is not
+a healthy life. I came upon him during the battle against the Aramæans;
+the fighting had made him sick. He is not what I would call a very
+robust individual.”
+
+“And did he really see an angel,” asked Judith, “as they say he did?”
+
+“Why not?” said Ahab. “Is there any reason why a man from my own
+village should not see an angel? He has certainly as much right to see
+one as Amos of Tekoa; or do you imagine that angels only appear to the
+men of Judah?”
+
+“What an idea,” cried Sarah.
+
+And she added with conviction, “For myself, I would sooner take the
+word of a man from Zebulon.”
+
+But when Prince Ahab had gone, she said, sniffing the air with
+vexation, “Men ought to stay out of the women’s apartments, where they
+have no business, whether they are uncles or not.” Seizing a vial of
+sweet-smelling oil, she began to sprinkle its contents in the room.
+This consoled her nose, which had been outraged by the prince, who, as
+usual, had come from the stables.
+
+Judith went out into the warm spring morning. The bees were humming in
+the blossoms, the birds sang quietly and gaily in the trees, and trees
+and blossoms stretched themselves luxuriously in the bright sunshine.
+Judith took a deep breath of the hot, sweet air; it was like eating
+flowers, she thought. Underfoot, in the grass, beetles moved gravely to
+and fro on their mysterious business; the world of stones and twigs was
+being explored by little eager ants; wasps hung and buzzed. The earth
+exhaled the beneficent fragrance of spring; everywhere was drowsy joy,
+tranquil activity. A tanager flew overhead with scarlet wings, turned,
+shone, and fled among the trees. The girl paused, and looked up at the
+sky, blue as a robin’s egg. “I should like to dance,” she thought.
+
+A moment later she added doubtfully, “But perhaps it would be wrong.”
+
+At her feet a beetle with a bright green coat which reflected the light
+was walking soberly toward his house. Presently an ant approached him
+and gave him a bite on the leg. The beetle turned an anxious look on
+his tiny assailant, whose head barely came up to his knee, “Come,
+come,” he exclaimed, “have you no respect for beauty? Do you think God
+enjoys having you bite me? He would be very much upset if anything
+happened to me.”
+
+Disdaining to reply, the ant went away to find his friends and discuss
+the situation. “I gave it to him,” he said; “I gave him a bite he won’t
+forget in a hurry. Now he knows who I am.”
+
+Left to himself, the beetle hurried home in an agitated manner. And
+Judith, remarking his awkward gait, cried,
+
+“There, you are dancing, you strange creature, with your lovely green
+coat. But that is quite another matter, because you are a beetle, and
+not a Jew.”
+
+She had a sudden thought. “Perhaps,” she said, “that is why you are
+dancing. Perhaps you are a little god, with such a fine green coat.
+Well, go in peace, I will not step on you. I will make a wish, instead.
+Little beetle, tell me what love is. It does not interest me, really; I
+would simply like to know....”
+
+She broke off with a start. A shadow had fallen on the grass at her
+feet, and she looked up with surprise. There, behind her and to one
+side, stood a young man. He was not good-looking, but his expression
+was gentle and kind. He had on an old, tattered cloak, and he leaned
+thoughtfully upon a rough staff which easily supported his weight.
+Judith looked at him with wide-open eyes.
+
+“Oh, my,” she said.
+
+And she added faintly, but in accents of hope, “Are you also a camel
+driver?”
+
+The young man shook his head. “No,” he said, “I am not a camel driver.”
+
+Seeing that his reply had disappointed the young woman, he added simply,
+
+“I am Jonah, the prophet.”
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+Jonah and Judith sat on a bank of ferns and moss beneath the shade of a
+giant sycamore tree. Already they were friends; they talked earnestly
+together, and twisted in their fingers the ferns with their tough
+stalks and cool leaves.
+
+“Well, but tell me,” said Judith, “did you really see an angel? Just
+imagine, how exciting that must be. What was this angel like? Very
+beautiful, I suppose.” And she looked down with a frown.
+
+“Such beauty,” said Jonah gravely, “I cannot describe to you.
+Because, actually, one does not see beauty, one feels it. One looks
+at something, and suddenly one feels a pain in one’s heart. Then one
+thinks ‘what a beautiful thing.’”
+
+“Yes,” said Judith. “Well, tell me, did this angel have dark hair too,
+like mine?”
+
+“I do not know,” replied Jonah candidly. “I did not exactly see any
+hair. But I remember the wide, white, folded wings, and the glow which
+entered my heart at the sight of that serene face.”
+
+Judith pouted. “Didn’t you notice anything at all?” she enquired. “For
+instance, what did she wear. And was she young or old? What a strange
+fellow you are; you saw almost nothing, or at any rate, nothing of any
+consequence.”
+
+“Why do you speak always of ‘her’?” asked Jonah. “This angel was not a
+woman. At least, I did not think so.”
+
+“Then he was a man,” cried Judith.
+
+“No,” said Jonah slowly, “he was not a man, either.”
+
+“You see,” said Judith, “I was right; she was a woman. And besides, if
+she was so beautiful, naturally she was a woman.”
+
+“I confess,” admitted Jonah, “that had not occurred to me.”
+
+“Of course not,” said Judith. “But it occurred to me, because I am a
+woman.”
+
+And she added with a smile,
+
+“Even if I am not as beautiful as an angel.”
+
+“You are very pretty,” said Jonah shyly. “But it is not the same
+thing.” And he dug in the moss with his staff.
+
+“Do you really think I am pretty?” asked Judith. “Sarah, my nurse, says
+that to be pretty is nothing, because any one can be pretty. She would
+rather I were virtuous, because virtue is woman’s richest jewel. Of
+course I mean to be virtuous, and to do what is expected of me.”
+
+She began to weave some ferns into a chaplet. “Sometimes,” she said in
+a low voice, “I look at myself in my mirror, and I give myself a little
+kiss. Do you think it is wrong? Nobody sees me.”
+
+Jonah moved uncomfortably in the moss. “God...?” he said.
+
+“Oh,” said Judith. “Well, God ... old God.
+
+“Anyway,” she added, “I don’t think He sees me.”
+
+She looked at the garden from which an overpowering fragrance arose,
+at the flowers languidly lifting their bright-colored faces to the
+sun, drinking in the warmth and the light. “I have a little dove,”
+she said, “made all of silver. It is a copy of the doves of Eryx, and
+it is sacred to Astarte. My uncle brought it to me from Tyre. It is
+pretty, because it is of silver, with eyes of rubies. I put it on the
+window-sill of my room. It brought the birds; they came and sang on my
+window-sill.
+
+“My little dove sees me kiss myself in my mirror.
+
+“Is it wrong, Jonah?”
+
+When Jonah did not reply, she said, “Tell me what it is like in the
+desert. Just imagine, to live all alone in a little hut or a cave, how
+exciting that is.”
+
+Jonah began to tell her of his life in the desert. Seated in the shade
+on the moss, while the bees hummed outside in the sun, he described the
+way in which the prophets came together for study and meditation. “I
+have a little cell,” he said, “in Golan, near a tiny stream which rises
+in the hills. It is clear and cold, and many prophets live beside its
+banks among the rushes. In the morning, after we have prayed, we gather
+in the shade to listen to some learned man, or eminent saint. Our
+midday meal is simple, a few dates, some maize, a little oil or wine,
+perhaps a fish from the deep waters of Cinnereth across the hills.
+And in the afternoon we meditate upon the Law, and the history of our
+people.
+
+“Evening comes suddenly in the wilderness. The shadows lengthen, and
+night approaches across the desert. The wind of night blows upon the
+east, which turns dark and blue with cold. In the west the sun goes
+down into the sea; the sky turns yellow, then green, and shines like
+a lamp. The stars appear, the dews descend, and the wings of angels
+begin to sweep through the skies. It is cold, and the desert is silent,
+save for the prayers of the hermits, which rise in a soft sigh from the
+earth. As it grows darker the voices of animals begin to mingle with
+our psalms, and we hear, far off, the roaring of lions on their way to
+drink. Then our fires are lighted, to guide the Hosts of Heaven to our
+homes.
+
+“The animals are our friends. The little divinities of the rocks and
+streams know and reverence us. They bring us food, and they tell us of
+the approach of demons in the form of ostriches and jackals. Against
+such beings as these our holiness is sufficient protection while we are
+on God’s land.
+
+“Well, that is all, really. It is a simple life, but it has its beauty.
+In the quiet of the desert our hearts expand like flowers in warm
+weather, and in our minds blossom lovely and tranquil thoughts.”
+
+Moved by a sweet emotion, Judith replied, “How delightful it must be to
+live in the desert.”
+
+She continued in a low tone, “When you speak of God, I seem to feel Him
+in my heart. It is such a strange feeling, so peaceful and yet a little
+painful.”
+
+And she looked at him with surprised and shining eyes.
+
+Suddenly she looked down; the dark lashes rested softly against her
+cheeks warm as sunny roses. “I must go home now,” she murmured.
+“Good-by.”
+
+She got swiftly to her feet. “I will not look in my mirror any more,”
+she said, “if you think it is wrong.”
+
+And she ran away without once looking behind her. When she got home
+she hid her mirror in a box of ivory and sandalwood. Then she went to
+put her silver dove away also. But all at once, instead of hiding it,
+she gave it a kiss on its ruby eyes.
+
+“Little dove,” she said, “tell me what love is.”
+
+Going to her box, she took out her mirror again, and gazed for a long
+time, and with a smile, at her own reflection.
+
+Jonah went thoughtfully home. There he found his Uncle David, who
+had stopped in for a moment to see if anything was being cooked.
+Deborah was filling the lamps for the Sabbath. When she saw Jonah she
+straightened her bent back, and remarked anxiously, “Where have you
+been all morning?”
+
+“I have been out walking,” replied Jonah evasively. And he sat gloomily
+down in a corner of the room, as far as possible from his uncle. Then
+all at once he burst out laughing. When his mother asked him what he
+was laughing at, he answered,
+
+“I was thinking of a green beetle.”
+
+“You see,” said Uncle David, nodding his head, “he is not all there.”
+
+Deborah arose, and went to fetch more oil for the lamps. As she passed
+her son, she touched his forehead with her hand. “What is there so
+peculiar about that?” she demanded of her brother. “Or perhaps you have
+never seen a green beetle? Well, I have been amused by them myself.”
+
+“Sit still for a little,” she said anxiously to Jonah; “after walking
+so much in the sun.”
+
+Uncle David settled himself comfortably in his seat. “To-day,” he said,
+“who should I meet but Bildad, the water carrier. He said to me, ‘This
+is fine news about your nephew, Jonah. I suppose that we shall hear
+from you soon,’ and with that he gave me a look full of meaning.
+
+“I did not reply; naturally, because I had nothing to say. Could I tell
+him the truth? We should be the laughing-stock of the entire village.
+I simply wrinkled my forehead and looked as grave as possible. At any
+rate, my expression struck him as peculiar, because he said as he went
+away, ‘Excuse me for intruding in your affairs.’”
+
+“I have been thinking of something,” said Deborah. “It has occurred to
+me that if we do not give a feast, people might begin to think that we
+wished to give ourselves airs.”
+
+“There you are,” said David; “that is the way I feel about it, word for
+word. Speak up, and people believe you. Otherwise what is the good of
+all this?”
+
+Jonah stirred uneasily in his corner. “Mother,” he said, “do you really
+insist upon giving a feast for me? I think it is foolish. Still, if it
+would give you pleasure ... but who would come? The whole village, I
+suppose. Would you actually ask the prince, and his niece?”
+
+“What?” cried David; “what? I shall ask him myself, because I am
+acquainted with him in a humble way.”
+
+“Well,” said Jonah, hesitating.... “But what would you wear, Mother?”
+he asked with sudden anxiety. “These old rags.... And who would pay for
+it? No, it is impossible.”
+
+“Do not worry about what I would wear,” returned Deborah sharply. “You
+will not be ashamed of me. As for who is to pay for it ... you need not
+worry about that, either, because it will not be you, at all events.”
+
+Jonah sat for a long time without speaking. At last he sighed. “Very
+well,” he said, “if you like....
+
+“I will stay a few days longer.”
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+
+So Jonah did not at once return to the desert. Instead, he said shyly
+to his mother the next morning: “My cloak is torn almost in two. Is
+there nothing else for me to wear?”
+
+“There is an old coat which belonged to your father,” said Deborah.
+“But it is brightly colored, and it is too heavy for this mild weather.”
+
+“It cannot be helped,” replied Jonah; “if people are going to notice
+me.”
+
+When it was brought to him, he regarded it with a timid expression.
+Nevertheless, he put it on, giving Deborah his old coat to mend.
+
+“You will be overheated,” said Deborah. She added, “Must you go out on
+such a hot day? You will come home all wet, like a river.”
+
+“Mother,” said Jonah earnestly, “I am not a child any longer.”
+
+“Was I interfering in your affairs?” cried Deborah. “I simply said it
+was such a hot day.”
+
+Clasping her hands anxiously, she asked, “Shall I put some oil upon
+your hair before you go out?”
+
+For she thought, “Then his head will be cool, at all events.”
+
+Without waiting for an answer, she ran to get the oil. Then she combed
+her son’s beard and poured oil upon his hair. “There,” she said,
+stepping back to admire him, “now you look like somebody.”
+
+As Jonah stalked gloomily out of the house, she called after him
+tenderly, “Keep out of the sun.”
+
+In the village Jonah met Bildad, the water carrier. Balancing his heavy
+gourds upon his shoulder by means of a wooden yoke and some leather
+thongs, the old man was going slowly from house to house with his
+wares. When he saw Jonah, he stopped and said with surprise,
+
+“I see that you have a new coat.”
+
+“Yes,” said Jonah.
+
+Bildad scratched his head. “I am glad to see that you are doing so well
+in your profession,” he said.
+
+And he passed by, carrying his water gourds.
+
+Walking hastily through the village, Jonah climbed the hill toward
+Ahab’s house. The moment he entered the garden he saw Judith. She was
+seated in the same spot as the day before, and she was twining a wreath
+of flowers in her hair.
+
+“What a surprise,” she exclaimed, “to see you again.”
+
+“Yes,” said Jonah. “I was passing by; it occurred to me to stop ...
+that is, I thought you might be interested to hear that I am going
+back to the desert again.”
+
+Judith’s face remained drowsy and content. “Are you going soon?” she
+asked, and held up her wreath to admire it. The wide golden sleeves of
+her robe fell back from her round brown arms; and she smiled dreamily
+at nothing.
+
+Jonah replied that he had decided to wait a few days in order to
+satisfy his mother, who wished to give a feast in his honor. “Just
+imagine,” he said, with a laugh. “Nevertheless, her heart is set on it.”
+
+Judith sighed. “I wish I were a man,” she said, “and could go to
+feasts.”
+
+Jonah told her that the whole village was to be asked. “Your uncle,
+the great prince,” he said, “has also been invited. He might even,” he
+added timidly, “bring his family.”
+
+“Oh, how exciting that would be,” she cried.
+
+And they looked at each other with happy smiles.
+
+“Why are you going back to the desert?” she asked at length. “But I
+suppose it is necessary for a prophet. Well, I hope you will be a great
+man.”
+
+Something suddenly occurred to her, for she added, “My goodness, you
+are really a great man already, aren’t you?”
+
+“Oh, no,” he said; “it was nothing; God simply wished to speak to me.”
+
+“You are modest,” said Judith; “that is nice.”
+
+Smiling, she looked at the flowers in her hand. Suddenly she frowned,
+and said seriously,
+
+“One finds so few modest people nowadays. All the prophets have so much
+to say, but I do not like what they say; they talk about such gloomy
+things. Jonah, tell me--what is there to be so sad about in Israel?”
+
+Jonah replied gravely, “We are sad because life is not simple, the way
+it used to be. We imitate other nations and so we are not certain about
+ourselves any more. We are not even sure of God; we begin to wonder if
+He is not a bull, or a dove, and if He is not also the god of Aram and
+Babylon. That is why we are unhappy. When the things we believe in are
+questioned, it makes us restless and sad. Patriots are the only happy
+people, for they believe in themselves; and if other people disagree
+with them, they do not forgive them for it.”
+
+Judith gazed at the young prophet with admiration. His black eyes
+glowed, his head was lifted, and he continued bitterly:
+
+“However, that is not all, by any means. One expects a certain amount
+of ignorance among the poor. But the rich ought to be an example to
+the rest of the people. Well, the rich have only one desire, to forget
+that they are Jews. With their beards curled like Assyrians, they vex
+and oppress the poor, who cry out to the gods of other lands for
+deliverance.”
+
+“That is not true,” cried Judith angrily. “And I will not let you speak
+of my uncle like that.”
+
+“Your uncle,” stammered Jonah; “yes ... well ....”
+
+He sat staring at the grass, with burning cheeks. Presently Judith
+remarked timidly,
+
+“Forgive me.”
+
+“You see,” said Jonah in a low voice, “you do not know what it is to be
+poor.”
+
+“I am sorry,” said Judith sweetly. And she added, “What is the good of
+talking about it?”
+
+“Do you think that I mind being poor?” cried Jonah. “I do not wish to
+be anything else. Since I am poor, I am free, my heart is at peace.
+Remember that I live in the desert, where all your uncle’s wealth would
+not do him the least good. It is you, not I, for whom you ought to
+reserve your sympathy. I do not need anything; I am happy, my heart is
+full of beauty, like the wilderness, quiet, fragrant, and bare.”
+
+Judith bowed her head, “My heart is bare, too,” she thought. But
+something moved in it, and she sighed.
+
+“No,” she told herself, “my heart is quite bare.”
+
+Jonah continued: “You have never seen the dawn come up across the
+desert. The night rolls away into the west like the last clouds of
+a storm, dark and terrifying. The east grows brighter and brighter,
+shining like a lamp, so clear and quiet; and the sky seems to be full
+of angels going out into the world. There is no sound, for the birds do
+not sing yet. All is peace, all is holiness and beauty. No, you do not
+know anything about such things.”
+
+Judith sat silent, her hands clasped in her lap, her brown eyes cloudy.
+At last she murmured sighing,
+
+“I should like to be poor, like you.”
+
+And they sat dreaming, hearing their thoughts knock like echoes on the
+walls of their hearts.
+
+At noon Jonah returned home through the field where his brother Aaron
+was grazing the village cattle. Bright-colored insects buzzed and
+hummed about him as he walked; lazy lizards sunned themselves on
+stones; in the noonday heat earth spoke with faint but audible voices.
+The trees drank in the light; the wild bees hurried to and fro among
+the flowers which opened their petals with voluptuous joy to the south
+wind.
+
+The prophet found his brother asleep beneath a locust tree. “So,” he
+said, rousing him with his staff, “that is the way you make a success,
+by going to sleep. I could do that too, without any trouble.”
+
+Aaron sat up and rubbed his eyes. “I have my hands full,” he said.
+“Remember that I am up at daybreak. And then there are all these cows.
+If I doze now and then, it is what any one would do in my place.”
+
+Seeing Jonah’s coat, he cried out angrily, “That is the coat mother
+promised me.”
+
+Jonah paid no attention to this outburst. “Tell me,” he said seriously,
+“how does one make a living? I am interested, and should like to know a
+few things.”
+
+An appeal of this nature made Aaron feel pleased. “To make a living,”
+he said thoughtfully, “is, to begin with, a very difficult thing. Then
+there are other questions to consider: such as, what sort of a living
+do you wish to make? Any one can live. Look at Uncle David.”
+
+“No,” said Jonah; “by a living I mean a family and children.”
+
+But Aaron shook his head. “There again,” he replied, “it depends on
+what kind of wife will do. Must she be expensive? Then you need a good
+living, naturally. But what could you do, Jonah? Could you sell cloth,
+or gold? Or perhaps you might build roads.”
+
+And he burst out laughing.
+
+“Ha, ha, ha.”
+
+“There is always the cattle business,” he said finally, pointing to the
+cows.
+
+“I am not joking, Aaron,” cried Jonah impatiently.
+
+His tone caused his younger brother to sit up, and to regard him with
+a curious expression. “Are you in earnest, Jonah?” he asked. “Do you
+really mean to settle down? I thought you would never leave the desert.
+Are you going to be married? Good Heavens....”
+
+Jonah replied carefully, with his eyes on the ground, “No ... what
+an idea. I may leave the desert for a while, but only to be with our
+mother. As for marriage ... well, to tell the truth, I had heard it
+said of you....”
+
+“Of me?” cried Aaron with wide-open eyes. “You are dreaming, Jonah,
+the heat has touched you. A wife, for me? Why, I could only afford a
+poor girl from the village. No, when I marry I mean to take a wife from
+town. But that will cost a good deal. One pays for a wife in Israel;
+perhaps you have forgotten that.”
+
+“You are right,” said Jonah; “I had forgotten it.” And he turned home
+again. His thoughts were grave, and he walked slowly, with a serious
+air. At the entrance to the village he passed the statue of a winged
+bull, before which lay the remains of a sacrifice of cereal, which was
+being enjoyed by some birds. Jonah looked for a long time at the idol
+which seemed to gaze back at him with an ironic expression.
+
+“Perhaps,” he said sadly at last, “it is I, not you, who am a stranger
+here in Israel.”
+
+And he felt a coldness lay itself upon his heart.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+
+Moonlight covered the earth, the trees showered down their perfume of
+blossom and cedar, the fragrance of lilies rose through the night.
+Voices sang softly in the shadows, teased, laughed, whispered in the
+moonlight; lamps shone, light fell upon trees. In Deborah’s kitchen
+Uncle David passed around cakes, fruits, and bitter almonds, and helped
+the guests to wine, milk, and honey. He was a genial host; his eyes
+shone, he urged every one to enjoy himself.
+
+Deborah moved among her friends, anxious and happy. She kept one eye on
+Uncle David, and had something to say to everybody.
+
+“Well, this is like old times. This is what peace does for a country.”
+
+“What a lovely night.”
+
+“We should have such a war every year.”
+
+“A son to be proud of.”
+
+Under a tree in the garden two old men were discussing religion. They
+pulled at their long beards and gazed at each other with indignation.
+“God belongs to Israel,” said one; “do not lend Him around.”
+
+The other replied: “Does the earth belong to the tree? Does the air
+belong to the wind? Can I lend the sky? How many gods are there, then?”
+
+First old man: “Maybe a hundred, maybe two hundred. There is nothing in
+the Laws of Moses which says how many. Do you wish to dispute with the
+Holy One Himself?”
+
+Second old man: “As for that, I am not the disputer. I simply say of
+God, ‘He is everywhere, and He does not look like anything.’ But you
+say, ‘No. He is here, and He looks like a Jew.’”
+
+First old man: “All the gods look like something. There is a tribe in
+the south whose god is only two feet high, and entirely covered with
+short black hair. His people are naturally pygmies. What have you to
+say to that? or would you like me to believe that our God is also the
+father of pygmies?”
+
+Second old man: “Pygmies are not human beings, but monsters. It does
+not surprise me to find monsters in the world. I say it does not
+surprise me because I can see a little beyond the front of my face. On
+the other hand you cannot see anything but what is right under your
+nose. You are not a philosopher; you are a patriot. You would like to
+keep God all to yourself.”
+
+First old man: “Exactly, I am a patriot. And what are you? I hesitate
+even to say it.”
+
+The two old men glared angrily at each other.
+
+“Look,” said the first old man to Bildad, the water carrier, who was
+passing by, “he wishes to give God away to the Gentiles.”
+
+Bildad shook his head. “No,” he said accusingly: “Oh, my.” And he
+hurried away to join a group of villagers about Prince Ahab, who was
+standing by the side of a table on which was set out a large bowl of
+wine.
+
+The prince was in the best of humor. “My friends,” he exclaimed, “what
+we need is more exercise. That is what makes a nation healthy. Talk is
+all very well, but there is too much of it.”
+
+He paused to take a long drink of wine. Several farmers who worked in
+the fields from dawn until dark applauded his remarks. It was easy to
+see that they respected his opinions, and that they did not know what
+he was talking about.
+
+“Just imagine,” said Bildad, “there is a man outside who wishes to give
+our God away to the gentiles.”
+
+“He is an ignoramus,” said Ahab. He continued,
+
+“Every one will agree with me that a good horse is the most beautiful
+thing in the world. Next to a horse, the best thing in the world is to
+be active, and to take a lot of exercise.”
+
+Uncle David nodded his head vigorously. “Exactly,” he said; “those are
+my opinions, almost word for word. A good active life is what I say.”
+
+The Prince turned upon Uncle David a face flushed with wine. “What,” he
+exclaimed, “here is an honest man.” And he embraced Uncle David, who
+said proudly to those standing near by,
+
+“We agree with each other. After all, he is a noble fellow.”
+
+Then he quietly asked Bildad to point out to him the old man who wished
+to give God away. When he found him, he went up to him and said,
+
+“Go away; please get out of this, as we do not want an ignoramus here.”
+
+Returning to the kitchen, he looked around him with an important air,
+and after blowing his nose, exclaimed,
+
+“Unhealthy people.”
+
+Prince Ahab was still talking. Clutching his beard, stained with grape,
+he concluded morosely,
+
+“Nobody rides any more.”
+
+It was time to divide the roasted ox among the guests. But first it was
+necessary to find Jonah, who was expected to perform the sacrifice to
+the god, in the absence of a priest. So Uncle David went to look for
+him; but he did not find him at once. For Jonah was in a corner of the
+garden with Judith, Ahab’s niece.
+
+The moonlight fell down upon them through the leaves like a shower of
+milky petals and blossoms without weight and without fragrance. The
+faint cheep of frogs, the shrill screech of the cicada, rose from
+the ground and answered from the branches through the air laden with
+sweetness. A single bird, cheated by the moon, sang far away; his song
+tumbled through the air like water falling.
+
+They leaned against the trunk of a tree, shadows making pools of
+darkness over their eyes, moonlight in their hair and on their hands.
+And their hearts, cheated, too, by the night, sang in confusion a song
+of joy which seemed to them like pain.
+
+They had little to say to each other. They discussed the weather.
+
+“What a beautiful night,” said Jonah. “It is like the nights on the
+desert, so still, so calm, and yet it makes me sad.”
+
+“It makes me sad, too,” whispered Judith. “Why does it make me sad,
+Jonah?”
+
+He shook his head. “I do not know,” he said. “Beauty often makes people
+sad. It is something they would like in their hearts, and their
+sadness is their longing.”
+
+She looked at him in the darkness. “Yes,” she said, “that’s it; that is
+what I feel sometimes when I look in my little mirror.”
+
+Jonah did not answer. The fragrance, the rapture of the night, moved
+through his heart. It seemed to flow from the young girl at his side
+and return to her again, lovely, obscure, a sweet sorrow, a longing
+filled with grief. He raised his head to the little dapple of moonlight
+among the leaves.
+
+“I’ve never felt anything like this before,” he thought. “It is like
+having God speak to me.
+
+“How beautiful she is. And she would like to be poor, like me. Of
+course, that is nonsense. Still....”
+
+He thought that she swayed a little closer to him. Intoxicated by an
+imperceptible warmth, he touched her hand. “Judith,” he whispered.
+
+“Yes?”
+
+“No--nothing. How lovely it is out here.” He trembled; his hand, twined
+with hers, was moist and warm, but he shivered as though with cold.
+
+She stood beside him, breathless, drowsy with sweetness, waiting....
+“This is love,” she thought. “He loves me, and I love him. How exciting
+it is.
+
+“I am a young girl, and already I am in love with a prophet.”
+
+She gave his hand a faint squeeze. Jonah sighed deeply. Was there
+anything else so lovely in the whole world, he thought.
+
+Judith raised her head. “Listen,” she said, “there’s a bird singing.
+Just think, in the moonlight; isn’t it sweet, Jonah? This is beauty,
+isn’t it? I could stay here forever.”
+
+No--there was nothing else in the whole world....
+
+From the garden arose the sound of voices; shadows moved among the
+trees. Aaron went by with a village girl, his hands stuffed with
+cakes. He offered them to her to nibble at, and kissed her mouth
+full of crumbs. She accepted his caresses with pleasure, but without
+passion. “What a thing you are,” she cried. “There’s your brother; he
+behaves himself, at least.”
+
+“He is a noodle,” said Aaron; “most of him is still in the desert. Who
+is that with him? My goodness....”
+
+They ran away, linked in laughter. Jonah looked after them, but he did
+not see them. The desert was in his heart, wide, starry, still; all the
+beauty in the world trembled at the moment’s edge. If it made itself
+known ... would the heart break with it?
+
+“This is too beautiful,” he wanted to cry; “wait, you are hurting me.”
+
+In another part of the garden Deborah said to Sarah, Judith’s nurse,
+
+“How charming your Judith is. She is not spoilt like so many of the
+young girls to-day. And when you consider her wealth, that makes it all
+the more remarkable.”
+
+“Yes,” said Sarah with satisfaction, “she knows nothing of life. She is
+a pure lily.”
+
+She added, “I have brought her up myself.”
+
+Deborah nodded her head. “Children cannot be brought up too strictly,”
+she said. “That is what is responsible for the success of my son Jonah.”
+
+And she moved away, smiling at her guests. Sarah gazed after her with
+pursed lips. “Indeed,” she said to herself. “Well, that is one thing to
+call it, of course.”
+
+Jonah was not thinking about being a prophet. His heart beat heavily;
+he felt as though he were all eyes, staring blindly into the night. The
+sweet, heavy scent of lilies struck him like a wind. He felt terrified
+of what he was about to say, of what he felt obliged to ask. But there
+was no help for it; the very shadows would begin to murmur if he were
+silent longer.
+
+“Judith, do you love me?”
+
+“Yes, Jonah.”
+
+Astonished, they gazed at each other without speaking.
+
+Then, slowly, their dark heads bent together.
+
+At that moment Uncle David, hurrying through the garden, caught sight
+of them under the tree. “Well,” he cried briskly, “there you are. Come,
+my son; the ox is about to be divided.”
+
+Jonah had only time to whisper, “Wait here for me, Judith.” Then he
+went, in a daze, to make the sacrifice. He heard but little of what was
+going on around him, the gay shouts, the pious wailing, but the sudden
+hush as he consigned the holy portions to the flames broke on him like
+a light.
+
+“Wait,” he said to himself; “something has happened.”
+
+And suddenly he began to feel very gay.
+
+“Why,” he thought, looking around at the familiar faces, “what are all
+these people so happy about? They do not know what has happened. They
+have no reason to be happy, as I have.
+
+“I ought at least to be happier than they are.”
+
+Seizing a cup of wine, he threw the contents on the blazing altar. “For
+You, too, God,” he cried recklessly; “enjoy Yourself.”
+
+At once murmurs of protest arose. The old man who had caused the
+philosopher to be sent home expressed the opinion that such an act was
+not customary. “What does he mean, ‘Enjoy yourself,’” he exclaimed. “Is
+that a way to speak to God? Or does he think that the Eternal One and
+he are such good friends already?”
+
+Prince Ahab shrugged his shoulders. “What do you expect of young people
+to-day?” he inquired. “It only surprises me that he did not call God
+something even more irreverent.”
+
+Uncle David went anxiously about among the guests with apologies. “He
+is a little wild,” he said to several people; “you must excuse it ...
+the life he leads, in the sun....” He tapped his head significantly.
+“He is not all there.”
+
+Deborah, on the other hand, did not seem at all disturbed. In a calm
+manner she explained that very likely there were different ways of
+making a sacrifice. “After all,” she said, “my son is a prophet, and
+therefore closer to God than any of us here. Did you see the feather
+he brought home, actually from an angel? Besides, if you ask me, why
+shouldn’t God enjoy Himself, if He likes?”
+
+But she gave Jonah a look, when no one was watching, which said
+plainly, “What a trouble you always make for yourself and for me.”
+
+When the sacrifice was over, Jonah hurried back to the tree where he
+had left Judith. But she was gone; Sarah had come to take her home.
+
+As if in a dream he wandered off in the moonlight, down the road and
+through the fields. Behind him the lights and the hum of the feast
+faded out; he was alone, in the silence of night. About him the
+pastures, bathed in dew, shone like silver under the moon which covered
+the earth with delicate mist. Everything was peaceful, everything
+breathed a quiet and resigned joy. Only in the heart of the man, filled
+with bliss, there was no peace.
+
+He spread out his arms, “I am happy,” he cried, “I am happy.”
+
+He thought of the Deity to whom he had so often prayed. “Thank You,” he
+whispered.
+
+And he gazed with love at the heavens, pale, and shining with stars.
+
+He began to imagine the future. “What does it matter if we are poor?”
+he thought. “One cannot buy beauty. We will live in a little house, and
+I will do great things, like Nathan, or Elisha.”
+
+But that mood did not suit his spirit for long. “No,” he exclaimed, “I
+will never allow her to be poor. I will make a large fortune, to keep
+her comfortably.”
+
+But how? He did not trouble to find out. Already he was living in his
+palaces, surrounded by slaves.
+
+All night he walked through the fields soaked with dew, through the
+woods, silent and dark. The moon floated on to the west, and went down
+over seas and lands unknown, undreamed. The world slept; even the frogs
+were still. But there was no sleep for Jonah that night; his joy kept
+him awake. Accustomed to sorrow and indignation, he could not bear his
+own happiness.
+
+“Judith,” he cried over and over, in a sort of amazement. “Judith.”
+
+Dawn broke in the east, and hunger turned him homeward. On the road
+near the village he passed a golden litter, also bound for Gath-Hepher,
+on whose curtains were woven in silver the little doves of Eryx. The
+litter was followed by several donkeys, laden with merchandise, and
+a number of servants in the livery of the Phœnicians. “There goes a
+rich man,” thought Jonah, “but I am happier than he. I will buy his
+litter and give it to Judith, because of the little silver doves on the
+curtains.”
+
+It was Hiram, a merchant of Tyre, on his way to visit Prince Ahab,
+with dyed silks from Sidon, sandalwood, and cloves. Jonah had no
+forebodings. Cold, wet, weary, but overborne by happiness, he went on
+home to his mother’s house for breakfast.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+
+That morning Jonah said to his mother, “Mother, I am going to be
+married.”
+
+Deborah did not stop singing to herself as she sat mixing curds. But
+she looked at Jonah as though to say, “Are you preparing some new
+trouble for us both?”
+
+At last, since Jonah did not offer any further information, she
+remarked quietly:
+
+“What of your career?”
+
+“What of it?” replied Jonah. “I have been alone a long while; now I am
+going to take a wife.”
+
+Deborah went on stirring her curds. But she stopped singing. Presently
+she put down her wooden spoon and sat still, staring at her son.
+
+“You know,” she said gravely, “that I want you to be happy. But what
+are you doing? Your father also had a great deal of talent. He might
+have been a priest, but he preferred to marry me; and he died by
+being gored by a bull. Marriage is a serious thing, and nothing for a
+prophet.”
+
+“Do you think prophets are made of wood or stone?” cried Jonah
+irritably. “They also have feelings, like any one else.”
+
+Deborah nodded her head. “I suppose so,” she said. “Still, how much
+better it would be if you could find something else to do with those
+feelings.”
+
+“Well, I can’t,” said Jonah. And he relapsed into gloomy silence.
+
+His mother began to stir her curds again. “If that is the case,” she
+said at last, “you had better tell me all about it, and we will see
+what can be done.”
+
+Since Jonah did not reply, she added, “I suppose it is some woman of
+Bethel, or perhaps a girl from the desert.”
+
+“It is Judith,” said Jonah simply, “Ahab’s niece.”
+
+The spoon fell with a clatter into the bowl. “Ak,” cried Deborah. And
+she gazed at her son in consternation.
+
+“Have you gone out of your mind?” she exclaimed at last. “Do you
+imagine for a single moment such a thing would be allowed? Who are you,
+Jonah, the grandson of King David? Or are you perhaps a nephew of King
+Hiram of Tyre? You must be mad, my son.”
+
+And she added, shaking her head, “It is always something difficult or
+impossible with you.”
+
+Jonah raised his eyes, burning with enthusiasm, to his mother. “After
+all,” he said with dignity, “it was I who led the Jews against Aram. Is
+that nothing? Is it nothing that I have spoken with God? Or is a noble
+a greater person in Israel than the God of the Jews? Let him order the
+angels, then.”
+
+“What does a noble know about God?” cried Deborah. “I am poor, and your
+mother; I know what it means to be a prophet. But a noble--no, my son,
+you have taken leave of your senses. All he knows is what he can buy,
+which is nearly everything.”
+
+“Can he buy love?” asked Jonah scornfully.
+
+Deborah thought to herself, “Yes, love, too”; but she did not say so.
+Putting aside her bowl, she asked more gently,
+
+“Do you love her so much?”
+
+“Yes, mother.”
+
+“And does she love you, my son?”
+
+When Jonah nodded his head, she arose and, coming over to him, put her
+hand a moment on his hair.
+
+“Poor Jonah,” she whispered.
+
+“Well,” she said, after a silence, sighing, “well ... I will see what I
+can do.”
+
+Taking down her best shawl, she went to find Uncle David, to discuss
+the matter.
+
+At first Uncle David was frightened. “He is crazy,” he exclaimed. But
+after a while, when he had listened to Deborah, he began to take a more
+hopeful point of view. “Who knows,” he said, “perhaps God is with him.”
+
+He thought: “It is not as though our family were just a common one.”
+
+And he began to feel that he was already connected with nobility.
+But he had no scented oil for his hair, and he wished to make a good
+impression when he went to call. Therefore, as there was a little oil
+of olives left over from the feast, he put this on his hair, and,
+taking also his me’il, or over-garment, which he kept for special
+occasions, he exclaimed hopefully to his sister,
+
+“Now, leave all this to me, because I know Prince Ahab very well, and
+we understand each other, he and I.”
+
+And he began to rehearse what he would say to the Prince. “Of course,”
+he declared, with a wave of his hand, “the difference in wealth.... But
+you are a man of the world. You know that a prophet is not born every
+day.”
+
+“And such a good son,” said Deborah.
+
+“And such a good son,” added Uncle David.
+
+“Also, I say to you as one father to another, or, at least, an uncle,
+what is there in the world like youth? Can we old ones tell the young
+how to behave?”
+
+“Come,” said Deborah; “you are only wasting time.”
+
+Gravely, with slow steps and thoughtful expressions, they went up
+through the village to the palace. Uncle David helped Deborah over the
+rough places, and she leaned upon his arm.
+
+Prince Ahab came to meet them in his hall in which a single fountain
+sang. There a peacock led his long tail across the floor set in
+triangles of marble and ebony. Rich silks adorned the walls, which
+exhaled an odor of musk and cedar.
+
+After greeting them cordially, the Prince offered his guests cakes in
+which cinnamon, spices, and poppy-seeds were happily mingled. Then he
+said in a hearty voice,
+
+“What a splendid feast you gave us last night. I wish to thank you in
+the name of my household, all of whom enjoyed themselves.”
+
+“Thank you,” said Deborah shyly. She was timid and ill at ease, yet she
+managed to appear calm and smiling. “It was nothing, or at least for
+such an occasion, nothing....”
+
+And she gave Uncle David a nudge with her elbow. But now that Uncle
+David found himself called upon to say something, confusion rendered
+him speechless. “Yes,” he said feebly, “an occasion....”
+
+Prince Ahab broke in, with a smile: “A feast in honor to a prophet. Do
+you think I have forgotten what is due your son for his help against
+Aram? A feast like that is not too good for him.”
+
+Warmed by his tone, Deborah said eagerly: “If you only knew him; such
+kindness, with all that talent besides. He has made a great success,
+and he is still a very young man.”
+
+“I do not doubt it,” replied Prince Ahab.
+
+“He speaks to angels,” continued Deborah proudly, “but he is like a
+lamb with his own mother.”
+
+“Say something,” she whispered to Uncle David; “make an effort.”
+
+“Yes,” said Uncle David.
+
+“I congratulate you upon your son,” said Prince Ahab heartily; “there
+are too few in Israel like him. I am proud to have him in my village.
+I was saying as much the other day to my niece, the Lady Judith.”
+
+And he added hopefully, “Does he speak of another war?”
+
+“No,” said Deborah, “he is not thinking of wars just now.” She hung her
+head, and gazed at the floor. Presently she lifted her head again, and
+looked, full of blushes, at the Prince. “He has something else on his
+mind,” she said.
+
+“Are you dumb?” she whispered in Uncle David’s ear.
+
+Uncle David gave a start. “As a matter of fact,” he said huskily, “it
+is this way: Jonah is thinking of settling down.”
+
+“Ah,” said Prince Ahab, and curled his beard idly in his fingers.
+“Well, that would be too bad. Such men as he have work to do in the
+world. We cannot afford to lose such optimistic voices. To whom is
+Israel to look for her glory if not to such prophets as your son, my
+good Deborah? No, no, I hope he will not settle down.”
+
+“He has made up his mind,” said Deborah; “I cannot argue with him.” And
+she added in a voice too low for Ahab’s ears, “He is like a goat.”
+
+“As a matter of fact,” said Uncle David suddenly, “he has made up his
+mind to marry.”
+
+“To marry?” exclaimed Prince Ahab. “What?” And he stood frowning with
+disappointment.
+
+“Then there will be no more wars,” he declared gloomily.
+
+But Deborah replied with conviction: “One can marry and still be a
+prophet. And my son is particularly suited to be a husband. He is
+gentle and pure.”
+
+“That must please you,” said Ahab, “although I do not know if it is the
+best thing in a husband.
+
+“Well,” he said, with a sigh, “I dare say there is no help for it. So
+tell me what I can do for you, my good Deborah.”
+
+And he gazed amiably at the two who stood before him shifting on their
+feet with embarrassment.
+
+It was Deborah at last who spoke.
+
+“My brother should by rights speak for me,” she said, looking
+indignantly at Uncle David, “but as he is so dumb, I shall have to
+speak for myself.”
+
+She took a deep breath. “Prince Ahab,” she said, “my son Jonah, the
+prophet, wishes to marry your niece, the Lady Judith.”
+
+“That’s it,” said Uncle David; “that’s what we came to say.”
+
+The smile died upon Prince Ahab’s face, and he stared at them in
+amazement. “What?” he exclaimed; “did I hear you aright?”
+
+Deborah repeated in a firmer tone what she had said; then, raising her
+eyes to his, looked at him with a candid and satisfied expression. Now
+that the declaration was out, she felt entirely different.
+
+But Prince Ahab began to laugh.
+
+“My good woman,” he cried, “are you mad? Such a thing is impossible.”
+
+“Why is it impossible?” asked Deborah calmly. “I do not see anything
+impossible about it. Do you, David?”
+
+“No,” said David hurriedly, “no. Of course it seems impossible; I said
+at once that it looked absurd. Still ... there you are.
+
+“Ha ha.”
+
+And he also essayed a laugh like a croak.
+
+Prince Ahab controlled himself with an effort. “Madam,” he said, “what
+does this extraordinary son of yours offer as price for my niece, if I
+may be so bold as to inquire?”
+
+Deborah at least had the grace to blush. “Nothing,” she said in a low
+tone. “But he thought, being a prophet ... and what is wealth to you,
+who have so much?”
+
+Prince Ahab let out a sudden roar of anger. The joke no longer amused
+him. “Nothing,” he cried.
+
+“He wishes to give me nothing for the Lady Judith.
+
+“What impudence.”
+
+“What did I tell you?” said David, trembling, turning to his sister.
+“He has insulted her. O my God.”
+
+Prince Ahab spread his legs apart, and clutched his beard with both
+hands. “Woman,” he cried in thunderous tones, “let me tell you that my
+sister’s daughter will not marry a pauper, prophet or no prophet. A fig
+for your prophets. They are dirty, unhealthy, meddlesome creatures.
+Tell your son to go back to the desert where he belongs. And as for my
+niece, she has been given too much liberty. I shall see that she is
+properly guarded hereafter.
+
+“What ideas. I tell you there is no respect in this unhappy country.”
+
+Summoning his slaves, he bade them hustle Deborah from his sight. Then
+he went off in a violent mood to find his niece. Fortunately for Judith
+she was not in the garden; instead he came upon Hiram, the Phœnician,
+strolling among the flowers. Prince Ahab took the wealthy merchant by
+the arm. “Come,” he said, “I am in a rage. Let me show you my horses.
+I have some things to talk over with you. I have had a shock this
+morning, and I do not know what the world is coming to. What ideas.
+What impudence. Let us go riding for a while; it will do me good.”
+
+And he hurried to the stables.
+
+Deborah walked home with her head in the air, the color bright on her
+face. In the village she stopped to speak a few words to the gossips,
+who greeted her with curiosity and interest.
+
+“Well,” she said, “Jonah is going back to the desert soon. God will
+need him again shortly.
+
+“Such excitement last night; I couldn’t sleep after it. So I still have
+on my shawl, taking some air in the morning.”
+
+She passed on, humming a little tune to herself.
+
+Uncle David hurried home before her. Dripping with perspiration, and
+with a white face, he burst into the house, and sank dejectedly upon a
+bench.
+
+“All is lost,” he cried.
+
+“Woe is me.”
+
+He could say no more. Deborah, when she came home, told Jonah the story.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+
+When Prince Ahab told his niece that she was not to be allowed to marry
+Jonah, she wept bitterly. For an entire day she refused to eat or
+speak; for she thought her heart was broken. In the evening she went to
+the tree in the garden where she had sat with Jonah; and, as she leaned
+her cheek against its bark, she saw again in her mind the dark, thin
+face of her lover, the brown eyes speaking to her in silence. She heard
+his voice:
+
+“Beauty often makes people sad. It is something they would like to have
+in their hearts, and their sadness is their longing.”
+
+“Oh, Jonah, Jonah....”
+
+And her tears fell unchecked.
+
+When she returned to the house, Sarah said to her indignantly,
+
+“Do you know that your young man wished to marry you for nothing? What
+an impertinence.”
+
+Judith replied tearfully, “He has nothing, the poor fellow.”
+
+“That is what makes the insult all the harder to bear,” said Sarah. “If
+he has nothing, he should keep quiet, for your sake. What would people
+think of you if you were to marry for nothing? You would be ruined
+socially.”
+
+Judith sat up straight, with red cheeks. “Why,” she exclaimed, “what an
+idea.”
+
+But she remained thoughtful for the rest of the evening. The next
+morning she said to Sarah, “He is so gentle and sweet. I love him.” And
+she added,
+
+“Men are so thoughtless.”
+
+At once Sarah, who knew what she was doing, exclaimed, “My poor lamb,
+you have been badly treated.”
+
+Judith’s eyes filled with tears again. “I am a young girl,” she
+thought, “and already my heart has been broken.”
+
+All day she was pale, and said nothing. Occasionally she wept, but
+without violence. In the evening she walked among her flowers, composed
+and quiet, her brown eyes sad and wondering, like a child’s. And as the
+sky faded from the color of roses to the color of leaves, she breathed
+a name sadly, but so faintly, into the air.
+
+“Jonah....”
+
+No one answered, and her heart vibrated with sadness and with peace. “I
+have lived,” she thought, “I have loved, I have been unhappy.
+
+“That is life, isn’t it....”
+
+And coming upon Hiram the Phœnician among the roses, she gave him a
+dignified bow.
+
+In the morning, in the bright sunshine, she said to herself, “Men are
+so selfish. Just imagine, if I were married for nothing, what would
+people think of me?”
+
+And she said seriously to Sarah, “I feel so old, Sarah. I feel as old
+as Methuselah.”
+
+“You are a little pale,” said Sarah, “but that does not do any harm.”
+
+“Do I look well?” asked Judith in surprise. “No.”
+
+“You are like a lily,” said Sarah.
+
+But Judith insisted that she looked, at least, a little thin. “And my
+eyes are all red from crying,” she added.
+
+She did not walk in her rose garden that night. In the morning Sarah
+said to her, “You are yellow as a dead leaf.” And she brought the
+little mirror for her mistress to look into.
+
+Judith looked at her reflection for a long time. She seemed a little
+proud and a little vexed at what she saw. “It is because I have
+suffered so much,” she said at last to Sarah. And she added,
+
+“Men are so cruel.”
+
+In the afternoon she dressed in white, with a girdle of silver about
+her hips. And Hiram, meeting Sarah in the court, cool with its
+fountain, said to the nurse,
+
+“The Lady Judith has a very spiritual face. Is she unhappy about
+something?”
+
+But Sarah threw up her hands at the mere thought of such a thing.
+“‘Unhappy’?” she cried; “what an idea. She knows nothing of life. She
+is like a lily. If she looks a little sad, it is because of her gentle
+nature.”
+
+That night Judith dined with her uncle and his guest. Her cheeks were
+pink as the youngest roses in her garden, her lips red again, like
+poppies. Ahab, seeing her blooming so, was satisfied. And Hiram also
+watched her carefully, with his shrewd dark eyes.
+
+In Judith’s apartments Sarah put away the pots of red and pink paste,
+the myrrh and cassia buds, and the little silver mirror. Then with a
+sigh she sat down to await the return of her mistress. She was content;
+she felt that the worst was over.
+
+“A woman should know her own worth,” she said to herself; “in that way
+she saves every one a lot of trouble.”
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+
+Jonah stood again before Amaziah, the High Priest. On his face, dark
+with woe, were drawn lines of determination. He held out his hands,
+empty, and brown as the earth.
+
+“I have not brought you anything this time,” he said, “not even an
+eagle’s feather.”
+
+Amaziah chose to ignore this greeting. “What now, Jonah,” he exclaimed
+cheerfully; “do you not bring me another war? The presence of my
+favorite prophet fills me with the liveliest hopes.”
+
+But Jonah shook his head. “I am weary of being a prophet,” he said
+simply; “I have come to ask you to make me a priest.”
+
+Without losing the serenity of his expression, Amaziah looked
+thoughtfully at the young man whose weary face expressed
+dissatisfaction and bitterness. The old High Priest seemed to be
+reaching back into his own past, to the time when he, too, had had
+a choice to make. And his face, as he gazed at Jonah, softened; an
+expression almost of pity crossed his features, sharp and cruel as a
+hawk’s.
+
+“This is bad news, Jonah,” he said gently. And he was silent, waiting
+for an answer.
+
+But Jonah had nothing further to say.
+
+Amaziah stroked his chin. “Tell me,” he said at last, “what has caused
+you to look with dissatisfaction on your career at the very moment when
+all Israel speaks of you with admiration?”
+
+“What is the good of admiration?” asked Jonah sadly. “I have a living
+to make.”
+
+“Ah,” said Amaziah, and his face clouded, “so that is it. What a
+nuisance.”
+
+And he sat looking before him with a frown.
+
+“You do not really wish to be a priest,” he said at last; “for one
+thing the duties would soon prove irksome to one of your temperament.”
+
+Jonah threw out his hands. “What is there for me to do?” he cried.
+“Shall I keep cattle, like my brother Aaron? Or am I to beg, with a
+bowl?”
+
+“There are worse things than begging,” said Amaziah. “In the desert
+every one is a beggar.”
+
+“I am tired of the desert,” said Jonah; “I am not going to live there
+any longer.”
+
+But Amaziah held up his hand reprovingly. “My son,” he said gravely,
+“one does not change the course of one’s life with impunity, or for no
+reason.”
+
+“There is a reason,” said Jonah. He looked down at his feet; then he
+looked boldly up again. “I wish to marry,” he said.
+
+The High Priest made a gesture of discouragement. “I might have
+guessed,” he murmured. And he gazed sadly at the prophet, on whom he
+had been counting to help further his own plans. Presently he said with
+a sigh,
+
+“I can see that this maiden’s father does not wish to give her away for
+nothing.”
+
+“He is wealthy,” said Jonah gloomily. “For that reason he cannot abide
+a poor man for a son-in-law.”
+
+Amaziah nodded his head. “Naturally,” he agreed; “if he is wealthy, he
+feels obliged to add to his fortune. It is only those without anything
+who can give away what they have, without suffering an overbearing
+sense of loss. For one thing they do not lose as much, and for another,
+having nothing, they are not required to succeed in the world, and so
+they can afford to be generous.”
+
+As Jonah did not reply to this observation, he continued in a grave
+voice:
+
+“Are you really determined upon this thing, my son? Think well.
+Marriage in your case may well be a calamity. You have a name already
+famous in Israel. You are at the outset of a career like that of
+Samuel. It is safe to predict that you will go far. And you wish to
+give this up in order to be married? Such a thing is incredible.
+Farewell to glory, Jonah.”
+
+Jonah folded his arms, and regarded the High Priest with a gloomy and
+obstinate look. “Nevertheless,” he said firmly, “that is my decision.”
+
+“It is not even your loss,” continued Amaziah earnestly, “wholly; it
+is Israel’s. It is you who shine like a lamp in her darkness; yours is
+the voice of hope in her night. If you were Amos, or Hosea, I should
+say that Israel could get along without you. But you are different; you
+are the messenger of God’s geniality. Israel cannot afford to lose you,
+Jonah, my son.”
+
+However, Jonah was proof against arguments of this kind. Seeing which,
+Amaziah exclaimed,
+
+“What will God think of His prophet, who no longer listens to His
+voice?”
+
+Jonah replied with an effort: “Is God only audible in the desert?
+And must He be silent in the Temple? I tell you, He will speak to me
+wherever I am.”
+
+Almost at once he astonished Amaziah by crying out in a muffled voice,
+full of pain, “Do you think this is easy for me?”
+
+Amaziah seized what he took to be his advantage. “You are confident,”
+he remarked in quiet tones, “but I have noticed that God does not speak
+to my priests with the same enthusiasm with which He addresses Himself
+to the wild and savage hermits who live in the desert of Tob and Golan.
+And it is my experience that His angels do not enter the cottages of
+married men with the same boldness with which they visit the huts of
+bachelors. If it is true that prophets have sometimes been married, it
+is also true that they have often left their wives and gone out alone
+to live in the wilderness.”
+
+“That,” said Jonah stubbornly, “is a personal matter, which need not
+concern us.”
+
+And he added, “You cannot shake me in my resolve.”
+
+Amaziah looked at him sadly. But suddenly his brow cleared, and he
+struck his palms together. “Wait,” he cried; “if the father of this
+young woman did not object to your poverty, then there would be no
+reason for you to become a priest.”
+
+“Well,” said Jonah sourly, “he does object.”
+
+“Then,” exclaimed Amaziah, “for the glory of his country he shall be
+prevailed upon to change his mind.”
+
+And he waited with a smile for the name of the unreasonable man whose
+opinions were making a successful war with Nineveh highly improbable.
+
+“It is Prince Ahab,” said Jonah.
+
+At once the smile left Amaziah’s face, to be replaced by a look of
+consternation. The High Priest sank back in his seat, and stared at
+Jonah with brows which slowly drew together into a frown. His fingers
+caressed his chin; he sat for a long time without speaking. At last he
+said:
+
+“My son, the more I think of things, the more convinced I am that you
+would not make a good priest. It is the duty of a priest to serve men,
+and the Temple. You cannot be a good priest, and at the same time be
+given to divine illumination, because God deals only in generalities,
+and does not bother Himself about the details of administration.
+
+“A priest must conform; he must not have ideas of his own. He is a
+soldier with certain duties to perform: he must obey his superiors, and
+must serve the interests of the men and women who worship the god.
+
+“That would never do for you; your spirit is too lively. You would try
+to change everything.
+
+“Moreover, since you are not a Levite, I cannot make you a priest of
+Adonai. I cannot believe that you would be willing to become a priest
+of a baal such as Melcarth or Kemosh.
+
+“Besides, can you read or write? No? Well....
+
+“I can do nothing for you.”
+
+So saying, he clapped his hands, to show that the interview was at an
+end.
+
+“Will you speak to Prince Ahab?” cried Jonah wildly.
+
+Amaziah did not reply. Instead, two Nubian slaves came forward, and
+hustled Jonah out of the house.
+
+A number of people, hearing that the prophet Jonah was in town, had
+gathered in the street, to gaze at the man who had won a victory over
+the Aramæans. When they saw Jonah they waved their sticks and shawls,
+and cried,
+
+“Hurrah for the prophet.”
+
+“God bless Jonah.”
+
+“There is a great man; just look at him.”
+
+One old woman came hobbling forward, to touch the hem of his cloak.
+Jonah did not even see her. His eyes, hot with anger, were on the
+ground; he saw the dust, and the tip of his own beard. Finding an old
+woman in his path, he gave her a shove; whereat she fell with a bump to
+the ground.
+
+“Oh my,” she said, when she had got her breath. “Oh my. Well, there’s a
+great man for you. Tst; I feel better already.”
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+
+Hiram, the Phœnician, was short, dark, and compactly built. His hair
+was curled and oily; his body, dressed in richest silks, and in linens
+forbidden to the Jews, exhaled an arresting fragrance. He walked in the
+garden with Judith and her nurse, Sarah, as evening was falling.
+
+“Redder roses than these,” he said, “bloom in the gardens of Tyre. The
+serpent priestesses of Astarte, the Kedeshoth, wear them in their hair
+at the festival of their goddess, who reigns in Sidon as the deity of
+cows, but in Tyre as the goddess of doves.”
+
+He had about him an air of the world, of cities by the shores of seas,
+of mountains far away. As he stood on the terrace at Gath-Hepher, his
+dark, shrewd eyes seemed to behold in the distance the white domes of
+Tyre, shining above the deep blue waters of the Mediterranean.
+
+“He reminds me of a man I knew long ago,” said Sarah to Judith in a low
+voice; “he was a camel driver, and he had been everywhere.”
+
+The Phœnician went on to describe the wonders of his country; the
+mighty trees of Lebanon, from which Solomon’s Temple had been built,
+the markets of Acre, with their silks, fruits, and ivory, the Temple of
+Melcarth, Baal of Tyre, with its two great pillars of marble and gold.
+He told them of the spacious Temple of Atareatis at Ascalon, with its
+pool in which floated sacred fish adorned with ornaments of gold.
+
+“At Aphaca,” he said, “there is a temple dedicated to Astarte, with a
+pool into which gifts are thrown by her worshippers. Once a year this
+pool is visited by the goddess in the form of a falling star. It is a
+marvelous sight and makes one very thoughtful.”
+
+“How strange,” said Judith. “And how I should love to see such a thing.”
+
+Hiram looked at her proudly. “You can understand,” he said, “that your
+temples do not compare with ours. In the first place, ours is a very
+old country. And then, our religion is not like yours. Our gods have
+faces you can look at, and love.”
+
+“Yes,” said Judith, thinking of her little silver dove.
+
+“What is more,” continued Hiram, “you who live inland cannot imagine
+the wonders of the great sea-coast cities. This is all very well;
+you have a pleasant garden here. But it is nothing compared to the
+terraces above the harbor at Tyre, looking out over the sea. There is
+magnificence for you. Well, you see, ships have come from all over the
+world to decorate them.”
+
+Sarah sighed. “I’d have seen them,” she said, “if I had gone as I was
+bid.”
+
+The Phœnician gave Sarah a wise look. “Perhaps you will see them after
+all,” he said. And he glanced for a moment at Judith as he turned away.
+
+“Oh,” said Sarah.
+
+Overhead the sky had grown dull with evening, green in the west, where
+the evening star, planet of love, hung silver over the hills. Shadows
+drew down about the garden, the wind rose and moved among the trees,
+the scent of flowers in the slow-falling dew ascended from the earth
+and mingled with the fragrance of pines.
+
+“How you would love the markets,” said Hiram, “with their bales of silk
+and rich stuffs, the strange fruits from the West and South, the gold
+and ivory. And such an enchanting odor of spices in the air.”
+
+“Just imagine,” said Judith.
+
+Hiram continued: “All the nations of the earth trade with my city.
+The masts of our ships rise like a forest along the sea wall, and
+their sails in the harbor are like orange and yellow moons. Ophir and
+Egypt, the colonies of Carthage, the isles of the barbaric Greeks with
+golden hair, all send their produce to us, in exchange for our linens,
+cedarwood, and dyes. It is a wonderful sight to see the ships come in,
+loaded with so much wealth.”
+
+Judith sighed. “How I should love that,” she said. And she looked
+around her at her uncle’s simple garden.
+
+“That is life, isn’t it?” she said; “to live in the world, in a great
+city with ships, and strange things to wear, and interesting sights to
+see.”
+
+“It is the life of a Phœnician,” said Hiram simply.
+
+And he added, “This sort of thing is all very well, but where does it
+lead to? You spend your life in a rose garden, between some low hills,
+among ignorant people.”
+
+“You would never believe how ignorant some of these people are,” said
+Sarah, nodding her head.
+
+“The life of a merchant,” said Hiram, “is another thing entirely. Take
+myself, for example; I travel a great deal. And it is really amazing
+how much information one is able to pick up here and there. I have been
+to Crete, where I went to look at the sewers. They are made out of
+stone, and very interesting. But perhaps sewers do not appeal to you?”
+
+“Oh, yes,” said Judith, “they appeal to me very much. But tell me
+something about your own city. What do the women wear? I suppose they
+are very beautiful.”
+
+“Yes,” said Hiram slowly, with his eyes on Judith, “they are beautiful.
+But to tell you the truth, I have never bothered much with women. How
+do they dress? With jewels, of course, and silks.... I hardly know. I
+am too busy most of the time to notice such things.”
+
+“Well,” said Sarah firmly, “I am sure you’ve seen no one in your city,
+or in any other city, for that matter, to compare with our young lady.”
+
+“No,” said Hiram, with a smile, “that is true.”
+
+Judith blushed a fiery red. “Why,” she cried, “I am not even pretty.”
+
+“You see,” said Sarah in Hiram’s ear, “she is not at all spoiled. What
+a jewel.”
+
+“The life of a merchant,” said Hiram thoughtfully, “is the most
+interesting life in the world. There is nothing like commerce to give
+one a liberal education. For one thing, the merchant has to travel a
+great deal, because naturally he has to see what he is buying; he has
+to visit other countries, in order to know what to sell. As you can
+imagine, it is a delightful way to occupy oneself.”
+
+“It’s quite another thing from living in a stable,” said Sarah.
+
+“Why, Sarah,” exclaimed Judith indignantly, “we don’t live in a stable.”
+
+“Maybe not,” the nurse admitted. “But we might just as well.”
+
+“In the morning,” said Hiram, “I go down to the docks, to see what
+ships are in. Several of the captains are known to me, and we discuss
+some matters of importance. Then I visit the markets, to see for
+myself what people are buying, because that is the only way to make a
+success of business. It is very interesting, all of it. One has to be
+perspicacious, to be a merchant. For instance, if people wish to buy
+silk in Damascus, it is useless to send them sandalwood, or betel-nut,
+even though I, personally, might prefer such things.
+
+“In the evening one goes for a stroll on the terraces above the water,
+to drink syrups, and watch the sun go down in the sea.
+
+“On festival occasions the streets are gayly decorated with flowers and
+rugs, and processions carrying the god pass among the houses, and meet
+at the Temple. Then there is music in the evening on the terraces, and
+bands of priests and worshippers perform the dances in honor of the
+deity.”
+
+Judith heaved a deep sigh. “How exciting that must be,” she said. And
+she gazed before her with parted lips and dreamy eyes. But the breeze,
+cold with dew, soon made her shiver.
+
+“Let me bring you a shawl,” said Hiram. And he returned to the house
+for a shawl of heavy silk, dyed in Tyrian purple, with a holy fringe,
+which he had brought along with him as a gift to Judith. When he was
+gone, Sarah remarked,
+
+“That is the sort of man I like; one who has made a success in the
+world and who says right out what he means.
+
+“What a wonderful life he leads. You can see that he knows how to live.
+A merchant--yes; that’s the life for a person.”
+
+Judith did not answer. When the Phœnician returned with the shawl, and
+drew it around her shoulders, she thanked him faintly; she would not
+even have noticed how beautiful it was, if it had not been for Sarah.
+The last birds were singing before night; the sky shone with the blue
+of evening. Far off beyond the hills lay the great ocean, wide as the
+world, with its sails, like orange moons, blowing home from barbarous
+lands. And over it, terrace on terrace, the queenly city with its
+laughing festivals, its temples, its sacred pools.... She closed her
+eyes ... such beauty, such dignity to life, so much to see and hear of;
+her young heart, dry with curiosity, filled like a pool with longing
+and despair; her pure and ignorant mind gave itself up in abandon to
+excitement, to happiness, to festivals with music, to syrup on the
+terraces as the sun went down ... to ships and wonder....
+
+“Oh, how I should like to be a merchant,” she cried.
+
+Hiram of Tyre bent his dark head humbly upon her hand.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+
+With a heavy heart Jonah climbed the hill to the garden. He wore
+his old coat, and his face was weary and gloomy. He had come to say
+to Judith, “We cannot be married because I am poor, and cannot get
+anything to do.” But as he drew near the garden, he forgot what he had
+come to say, and thought only of seeing her again.
+
+When he came to the tree under which he had sat with her, Hiram, who
+was walking with a satisfied air among the flowers, said to him,
+
+“You, there, are you one of the servants?
+
+“Well, just be so good as to bring me a bowl for these roses.”
+
+“I am not a servant,” said Jonah proudly.
+
+“No?” said Hiram. “Then what are you? Are you interested in horses?”
+
+“I am a prophet,” said Jonah.
+
+Hiram made a small bow. “Forgive me,” he said. “In my country the
+prophets are dressed a little differently, because they have priestly
+connections. However, it is interesting to meet other kinds of
+prophets. It is an interesting profession. Well ... what a pleasant day
+it is. Perhaps you would do me the favor to prophesy me something.”
+
+Jonah stared at him angrily. “I have some business with the Lady
+Judith,” he declared.
+
+“She is in the house,” said Hiram. And the two men stood looking at
+each other with surprise and alarm.
+
+Hiram went to fetch her. She came slowly, with downcast eyes, and
+cheeks as white as her own lilies. “How do you do, Jonah,” she said.
+
+At the sight of her, Jonah felt his heart beating through his body, and
+a strange sweet sorrow rose up in his eyes. He wanted to say to her,
+“This is like coming home. I have been so unhappy, but you will comfort
+me. Because you love me, you will feel my sorrow. How sweet it is to
+have such a secret together.”
+
+“How do you do, Judith,” he said; “I have been away.”
+
+“Yes,” she said. And they stood without speaking, and without looking
+at each other.
+
+“Well, did you have a good time?” she asked finally.
+
+It troubled Jonah that she would not look at him. “I did not go away to
+amuse myself,” he said simply. And he added in a lower voice,
+
+“Did you miss me?”
+
+“Yes, I suppose so. At least ... I have been so busy. What hot days
+these have been.”
+
+“I went to Bethel,” said Jonah. He wondered how to go on; he was
+puzzled and depressed. This was not as he had thought it would be.
+
+“Didn’t you know?”
+
+“No.... Did you prophesy again? What is going to happen now? My
+goodness, you prophets, you are always going about.
+
+“I suppose you will be going back to the desert soon.”
+
+Jonah stared at her. She kept her head down, and her hands twisted
+together. He began to feel as he did sometimes before God spoke to
+him, still and empty inside, with a terrible stillness, waiting for
+something.
+
+“Judith,” he half whispered.
+
+“Yes, Jonah,” she said, looking up at him, for only a moment, and then
+looking away again.
+
+“All the time I was gone, I thought of only one thing. I remembered
+only one thing.”
+
+“Yes, Jonah?”--ever so faintly.
+
+“That night in the garden, and the white moon in the trees like a bird
+in the branches....
+
+“Do you remember?”
+
+Judith looked away. “That seems like so long ago, doesn’t it?” she
+answered.
+
+“‘Long ago’?” cried Jonah, and his heart sank. “Why, it is no more than
+seven days ... Judith, have you forgotten?”
+
+“No,” murmured Judith unhappily; “but I do not exactly remember....”
+
+“You said you loved me,” he cried, in a voice which sounded like a
+croak.
+
+She put the backs of her hands to her two cheeks, and whispered with
+bent head, “What must you think of me?”
+
+“But,” stammered Jonah. Words would not come; he stood staring at her,
+eyes wide with unbelief.
+
+“Forgive me,” she said calmly. “You can understand ... I hardly knew
+what I was doing. Do not think too badly of me.”
+
+Jonah did not move or speak. But within him there were voices enough,
+too many. “What? I do not believe it. It is impossible. No, it is not
+impossible. Well, it has happened. But such things cannot happen ... to
+you, Jonah, to you....”
+
+He was still, waiting for the clamor to subside, for the voices to
+reduce themselves to one voice. He was afraid to move even; bewildered,
+horrified, he was like a man clinging with his finger-tips to the edge
+of a precipice. If he moved ... if even a little earth slid from under
+his fingers....
+
+No, he must keep very still; not a word, not a motion ... then it would
+all turn out right again....
+
+It was Judith who moved, and spoke. Coming forward a step, she laid her
+hand timidly on his arm. “You will forgive me,” she said. “You have
+work to do in the world. You must go on, you must be a great prophet
+for my sake. I am going to be married. I shall be so proud of you.”
+
+And turning, she ran back to meet Sarah, who was hurrying out of the
+house after her.
+
+Jonah went home. His feet led him back down the hill to his mother’s
+house, but he did not notice where he was going. He felt strangely
+light-headed, almost as if he had been drinking. His set face, with
+wide amazed eyes, was lifted to the sky. And he kept thinking:
+
+“Something has happened, something has happened....”
+
+But what was it? Could he tell? Something had happened out of all
+reason, as though a tree had moved, and stood upright on its head. How
+could one believe such a thing? But there it was--on its head.
+
+What was God about? And what had he, Jonah, done to deserve such a
+thing?
+
+He passed the field where Aaron kept his cows. And suddenly, as he saw
+his brother in the distance, his shoulders sagged, his face broke into
+creases, his body seemed to fall together; and he stood weakly wringing
+his hands, while a wave of physical sickness stormed through his body
+... remembering, remembering....
+
+Then he went on again, with clumsy steps, and bent head.
+
+If only it were something he could understand. But how could he
+understand it; how could he ever understand? How could one love, he
+wondered, and then not love? Love did something to one’s whole being;
+it made one gentle, and tender....
+
+How could she have hurt him so, if she loved him?
+
+And where was God all this time? What did He think about such a thing?
+“You, up there--God--what have You to say?”
+
+Nothing.
+
+He came slowly into the house, and sat down with his hands clasped
+between his knees. One look at him was enough for Deborah; she knew.
+But then, she had expected it. And keeping her glance busily upon her
+sewing, she began to sing softly to herself.
+
+But her eyes were full of pain.
+
+  “_Men dead long ago.
+    Have set me like a tree...._
+
+“You are tired, my son.”
+
+“Yes, Mother.”
+
+“It has been hot. The poor always feel the extremes of weather most. If
+I had a daughter, I would never let her marry a poor man.”
+
+And she glanced swiftly at her son, sunk in despair upon his stool.
+
+  “_Let the wind blow,
+    What is that to me?_
+
+“Everywhere I go,” she continued calmly, “they speak of you with such
+admiration. He is a real prophet, they say. Everybody expects great
+things of you. It makes me so happy.”
+
+Still Jonah did not answer. And Deborah said, sighing,
+
+“Is it time you were going back to the desert, Jonah?”
+
+“Yes, Mother.”
+
+“Well, I suppose you are right. It will be a rest for you, after all
+this. We shall miss you. It will be peaceful in the desert.”
+
+“Yes, Mother.”
+
+“I will send Aaron to you soon, with news, and some little comforts
+for you. Even if you have to live with the foxes, you can at least be
+comfortable.”
+
+Slowly, putting her sewing away, she rose, and came over to him.
+“Jonah,” she said gently, and laid her hand ever so lightly upon his
+hair, “my boy....
+
+“People are not very kind to one another.”
+
+“No ... Mother....”
+
+She began to sing again, softly, taking his head in her hands, drawing
+him gently to her:
+
+  “_My roots are in their dust,
+    My roots are deep, I trust...._”
+
+And Jonah wept, with his head against his mother’s breast.
+
+  “_My son is at my knee._”
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+
+Naaman sat beneath his acacia tree. Gentle and austere, his thoughts
+usually concerned themselves with the universe and with God, who he did
+not believe belonged exclusively to the Jews. However, he no longer
+felt called upon to say so, unless he was asked; then he stated his
+opinions with dignity but without the least hope of convincing any one.
+When any one wished to know why he, who loved peace, clung to such
+disturbing ideas, he replied, “I am an old man, and I like to have in
+my mind only what is comfortable there.”
+
+Now, however, his brows were drawn in a frown, and he looked gloomily
+at Jonah, who sat with bent head at his feet. And his hands, as he
+caressed his long white beard, trembled with age, with pity, and with
+indignation.
+
+“So, my son,” he said, “you have hurt yourself. When you were a child
+you used to come running to me with eyes full of tears, to show me some
+bruise you had received. I can still remember what I used to tell you:
+if you did not fall you would not get a bump. The one followed the
+other, almost as to make one believe that they were the same thing. And
+so I used to ask you: Jonah, are you crying because of the fall or the
+bump? Well, my son?”
+
+Jonah smiled sadly. “Yes,” he replied. “And then you went on to say
+that I was not a philosopher. How that used to wound me, for I wished
+above all things to be a philosopher.
+
+“Well, now it is the bump that has made me cry, Naaman.”
+
+Naaman nodded his head. “Exactly,” he said. “But do you think perhaps
+you are any more of a philosopher than you were then? I doubt it, my
+son. For you bring me your bruise with the same astonishment as of
+old, not seeing that, having fallen, you can expect nothing else.”
+
+Jonah spread out his hands in a gesture of discouragement. “How is one
+to stand upright in this world then, Naaman,” he said, “being but a
+man, and less than a god.”
+
+The old hermit regarded him gravely. “You are not a man, Jonah,” he
+said finally; “although,” he added quickly, “you are not a god, either.
+But you are not a man in the sense that your brother Aaron is a man.
+Nor do you live in the world he lives in. You belong to another world
+altogether, as different from that one as Thebes from Nineveh.
+
+“And that world, my son, where you belong, is not here, among the
+tribes, among the towns and villages. It is in the desert; it is in the
+wilderness, where there is quiet for God to speak, where there is room
+for His angels to move about. When you left Golan, your heart was like
+the desert, spacious and calm. But now it is like a crowded village,
+full of tumult and pain.”
+
+“Yes,” said Jonah in a low voice, “it is full of pain.”
+
+“I hoped you would not stay here,” continued Naaman; “I implored you to
+return to Golan, to your home. Yet you stayed; with the result it was
+impossible not to foresee.”
+
+“I did not foresee it,” said Jonah.
+
+“That is because you are ignorant,” said Naaman severely. “You do not
+know the world, yet you wish to live in it.”
+
+“No,” said Jonah, “that is not true. For such things do not happen to
+everybody, or to other people. Why, love is holy, Naaman. It is as
+though God had told a lie.”
+
+“Be silent,” exclaimed Naaman harshly, “and do not blaspheme. Love
+is not holy; and God does not lie. That alone is holy which concerns
+itself with holy things. But love ... no, my son; it is pain and
+impurity, it is violence and sorrow. The world of desire is the world
+of demons, of concealment, of Sathariel which hides the face of mercy.”
+
+Jonah regarded the old man with astonishment. “You are so bitter,” he
+exclaimed; “I have never heard you speak in that tone before.”
+
+Naaman peered off beneath his shaggy white eyebrows to the distant
+hillside, swimming in the haze of summer heat. For a moment he did not
+speak, but presently he said, sighing,
+
+“You know but little of my life, my son. I, too, loved in my youth.
+Does that surprise you? Yes, it is hard to imagine that old men have
+ever been in love, swept by the flames of passion and of sorrow. And
+sometimes it is hard for the old to remember how it goes with the young
+men, with their joy, and their pain.
+
+“I, too, was young like you, Jonah. Do you think your heart is the
+first to break? Other hearts have broken before; and other men have
+wept, as you are weeping. I know; for I, too, wept, Jonah, my son.”
+
+He was silent. Jonah took the old man’s trembling hand between his two
+brown palms. “I am sorry,” he said. And he remained respectfully silent.
+
+“But, Naaman,” he broke out at last, “what then is holy here on earth?”
+
+Naaman replied gently and inexorably, “My son, the love of earth is
+holy, the love that God bears the least of His creatures, without
+desire, without envy, and without malice. That mercy and generosity
+with which the sun warms and the soil nourishes its flowers and trees,
+is holy; all that gives of itself, without reason, without measure, and
+without return. For that is the way of God; it is the way of the One,
+from which all things spring, to which all things return. Go back to
+the desert, Jonah; go back to the desert, and learn that God is One,
+and that His love is holy.”
+
+But Jonah did not understand him. “Yes,” he said. “I shall go back
+to the desert, because that is all I can do. But I shall have no
+happiness, Naaman; my heart will never be at peace again. There is no
+beauty in the world for me now, ever. Oh, Naaman,” he cried suddenly,
+clasping his hands together, “if God loves His creatures, how can He
+make them suffer so?”
+
+Naaman looked sadly at the young prophet whose face was hidden from
+him. “Must you have beauty, too, Jonah?” he asked.
+
+“Yes,” said Jonah.
+
+Rising to his feet, he added, “You do not know what it is to love and
+to be unhappy.”
+
+And he went home again. As he entered his yard, a green beetle crossed
+his path. He went a few steps out of his way in order to tread upon it.
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+
+And so Jonah returned to the desert, to his hut among the rushes in
+Golan. As he stood waiting for the ferry to take him across the Jordan,
+a party of soldiers coming from Hamath passed him on their way home.
+“There is Jonah,” they said, “the prophet. Now we shall have another
+war.”
+
+“That is the sort of prophet to have.”
+
+“Hurrah for Jonah.”
+
+But Jonah paid no attention to them. He was thin and deathly tired, and
+his eyes, which burned with a deep and weary fire, were fixed on the
+distant hills beyond the river. There, Naaman had said, he would have
+peace again.
+
+He walked northward through Tob, climbing from the river valley toward
+the table-land behind the hills. His heart was heavy, so heavy it
+seemed to weigh him down; and he walked slowly. At dusk he found
+himself still far from Golan, with a river yet to cross, and near the
+little pool at which he had halted on his way to Bethel, months before.
+How different life had seemed to him then. Why, it was not the same
+thing at all any longer; now it seemed like a dream, without reality,
+without anything about it that he could feel.
+
+He sank down and looked around him.
+
+The night came on. The shrill frogs sang together; and the little fox
+came out of his hole, and lay down beside Jonah, whom he recognized.
+
+“Ah,” he remarked, as he settled himself comfortably at his side, “here
+is the man of God again.”
+
+Jonah let his hand stroke the fox’s soft fur. His face was turned to
+the west, and he peered back through the darkness over the way he had
+come, as though trying to see again the home he had left. Uncle David,
+Aaron--his mother....
+
+He remembered how she had pressed him to her breast as he departed.
+“Go, my son,” she had said, “go back to God. He misses you. Here is a
+little cake for the journey, and a few silver pieces. They are all I
+have. Buy yourself a coat on the way.”
+
+She had sold her shawl to give him a coat. But he left the silver
+pieces in a pot before the oven. He wanted nothing, only to forget
+the sickness of his heart, the heaviness like a weight of lead in his
+breast.
+
+“Cheer up,” she had said at the last; “see, you will forget all this
+after a while. There is the storm, and then the sun shines. Do not stay
+away too long. Who knows, maybe God will send you home again soon.”
+
+And she had kissed him. No, he would not forget all this soon. Would he
+ever forget it? that was what he wondered. And Judith, with her brown
+eyes, and the scent of lilies and jasmine in the moonlight....
+
+“O Judith, Judith, how could you do such a thing to me?”
+
+His eyes filled with tears, and he bowed his head.
+
+The fox stirred beneath his hand. “Well, Jonah,” he said sadly, “God is
+a raven. I believe that now, since a jackal ate my wife. He could not
+very well be a fox, and allow such things; or even an old man with a
+beard.”
+
+“Perhaps you are right,” said Jonah in a low tone; “perhaps He is a
+raven.”
+
+Hearing this, the Devil, who was going by in the form of a scorpion,
+stopped, and said to himself,
+
+“I shall tempt this holy man a little.”
+
+And remembering how Jonah’s quiet and pious spirit had vexed him in the
+past, Satan considered how best to be revenged on the prophet.
+
+“There is nothing like an odor,” he thought, “to hurt the memory.”
+
+And he changed himself into a jasmine vine. The unwilling night wind,
+trembling and sighing, carried the fragrance of its blossoms toward
+Jonah, who shivered as though with cold.
+
+“Ak,” he thought, “I can never forget.”
+
+And staring with wide eyes at the west, he saw again the garden, with
+the moonlight falling through the leaves like honey; heard the voices
+of the old men under the trees, the whispers of lovers, and laughter,
+like a sound of flutes; felt on his hand the touch of her fingers....
+Judith’s....
+
+“What a beautiful night.... It makes me sad. Why does it make me sad,
+Jonah?
+
+“Listen ... there’s a bird singing. Just think, in the moonlight; isn’t
+it sweet, Jonah? This is beauty, isn’t it.
+
+“I could stay here forever.”
+
+“Oh, Judith, Judith....”
+
+“There is a smell of sulphur here,” said the fox, wrinkling up his nose.
+
+But Jonah did not hear him. Something was hurting in his throat. He
+sprang to his feet, and took a deep breath. “Look,” he cried out to
+God, “look; it is I, Jonah.”
+
+And he stood there, with bowed head, in the silence.
+
+“This is very good,” said Satan to himself.
+
+After thinking for a moment, the Arch-Demon decided to become a woman
+with brown eyes and brown hair. She came up to Jonah out of the
+darkness, timidly, draped in her shawls. “Well, Jonah,” she said, “here
+is the desert. See how quiet it is; what peace, what beauty. How happy
+we shall be here.”
+
+“Go away,” cried Jonah, throwing out his hands in front of his face,
+“go away.”
+
+“Why do you want me to go away?” asked the woman quietly. “Have I not
+come all this long way with you, as you wished? Am I not your love,
+tender and gentle and kind? Come, let me make you happy.”
+
+And as Jonah stood trembling, unable to reply, she continued in her
+soft voice,
+
+“Are you not young, Jonah, and lonely? The young ought not to be
+lonely. See how beautiful the night is with its stars, its clouds, half
+seen, half guessed, how the music of the wind rises over the desert and
+sings in the hills, softly, softly. It is a night for love, Jonah, for
+young hearts beating each to each in the silence, in the darkness. That
+is what life is for, Jonah, for lips to kiss, for hands to fondle....
+There is no beauty like mine, Jonah, no voice like mine to hurt your
+heart so, no hands like mine to hold your face tenderly, to kiss your
+mouth, Jonah, and your tired eyes, your mouth and your eyes....
+
+“And you in your little hut, all alone among the rushes, all alone,
+Jonah, all alone....
+
+“You will always be alone now, summer and winter, winter and summer,
+your pillow the earth, harder and colder than my arms; only the song of
+birds and the sound of rain in your ears.... And you will never see me
+again, Jonah, never hold my young white beauty close to your breast,
+never feel, as other men, love singing in your heart, and peace folding
+down upon your eyes. You will be all alone, Jonah, with no one to tell
+the secret things in your heart to at the set of sun, at the rise of
+moon ... until at last, old and sleepy, you take my single kiss with
+you into the darkness ... alone in the darkness too, Jonah ... alone in
+the darkness....”
+
+“O God,” cried Jonah, sobbing, “help me, help me.”
+
+“God will not help you now,” said the woman.
+
+The drowsy fragrance of her body spread through the night. “Come,” she
+said, holding out her arms to him.
+
+“God cannot help you now, my poor Jonah.”
+
+Jonah took a step forward, and fell upon his knees. And then, one by
+one far off and near, the demons of the desert broke into laughter,
+wild peals of laughter, bitter and full of pain, cruel and without pity.
+
+“Ha, ha, ha.”
+
+“Alone, alone....”
+
+“God cannot help you now.”
+
+Under that mocking clamor, Jonah swayed like a reed, beaten to the
+earth, his face hidden in his hands. And then, at last, when it seemed
+to him as though he could bear no more, the terrible laughter stopped.
+There was a cry, and then silence.
+
+Jonah got up and looked around him. Nothing was to be seen; the woman
+had vanished.
+
+The little fox had run forward, and seized the demon by the leg. Once
+again the desert was filled with a holy peace, as though brooding
+beneath the wings of angels.
+
+“One can at least always help oneself,” remarked the fox.
+
+He lay down next to Jonah with a contented sigh. And presently the man
+and the fox fell asleep together.
+
+In her kitchen at home, Deborah sat praying for her son. She prayed
+that God would be kind to him. “He is only a boy,” she said; “do not
+ask him to behave like a man. Watch over him a little. I do not ask for
+anything for myself. I am an old woman, and my heart was broken long
+ago. But he is so young ... leave a little of his heart unbroken.”
+
+She lifted up her eyes full of tears. “Leave me my son,” she said.
+
+And Judith, at her window in Tyre, knelt with a pale and weary face,
+peering out across the plains and hills of Phœnicia, across the wide
+waters of Meram, far off and unseen, toward the desert, where the night
+had already rolled up its cold blue clouds. And she, too, thought of
+Jonah; she, too, saw in the moonlight, in the little garden, the thin,
+worn face with its grave, dark eyes. They seemed to follow her, without
+reproach, but with infinite tenderness, pitying and forgiving. And
+suddenly she thought, “Yes, there in the desert there is peace; it is
+gentle out there, where Jonah is. O my dear, my dear, do you forgive
+me? Have you forgotten? It would have been different, Jonah, it would
+have been so different....”
+
+Wearily she went to her little gold box, and drew out her silver dove.
+Holding it in her hands like a tiny live bird, she kissed its ruby eyes
+and its silver beak. “Little dove,” she said sadly, “tell me what love
+is.”
+
+But the dove said nothing. And all at once she let it fall to the
+ground.
+
+“Ak,” she cried, “you don’t know anything about it.”
+
+And as she wept, Hiram’s steps mounted through the house to her room.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+
+God was worried about Jonah. Watched by reverent cherubim, whose wings
+fanned the air all about Him, the Lord of Hosts walked up and down in
+the sky, and said to Moses, who was accompanying Him,
+
+“I must find something for this young man to do.”
+
+Moses looked down at Jonah with an expression of contempt. “He is
+hardly worth the effort,” he declared gloomily. “He seems to me to lack
+character.”
+
+“You are right,” said God. “Still, he expects something from Me.”
+
+And He added, smiling gently, “Perhaps that is why I am fond of him. He
+has not your strong and resourceful mind, Moses, nor Noah’s faithful
+heart; but he has suffered. He is simply a man, like anybody.”
+
+“What?” cried Noah, hurrying up, “are you talking about me?”
+
+God replied: “I was saying that Jonah did not trust Me as you did, My
+friend.”
+
+“No,” said Noah; “but then, what do you expect? There are so many
+different ideas now in the world. I do not recognize my posterity in
+these warring nations. Let us have another flood, Lord.”
+
+Moses looked sadly down at Jerusalem, where golden idols were being
+sold in the streets. “You are right, Noah,” he said, “but I do not
+like the idea of a flood. A flood does not teach people how to live.
+Sometimes I wonder if anything can teach people what they are unwilling
+to learn.”
+
+“Nonsense,” said Noah. “A flood is the most sanitary thing. Wait and
+see; even you could learn something about sewers from a good flood.”
+
+God checked the old patriarch with a kindly hand. “Things are not the
+same as they used to be in the early days,” He said. “I cannot drown
+the world to-day without drowning My wife, Israel. She is young, and a
+nuisance, but she has yet to bear Me a son. I foresee that He will give
+His mother a great deal of pain, but that cannot be helped.
+
+“Let us not think of Israel now, but of the prophet Jonah. Moses is of
+the opinion that he is not a first-class prophet, and I am inclined
+to agree with him. He is a poet; and for that reason I feel warmly
+inclined toward him. After all, you, Noah, and you, Moses, see only one
+side of My nature. You try to look upon the Greater Countenance, but
+what you see is the Lesser Countenance. It is different with a poet. He
+does not see Hod, or Chesed, the thrones of Glory and Mercy. He looks
+through Beauty to the Crown itself. Whereas you, Moses, have never seen
+beyond Knowledge; and you, my good Noah, have seen My face only in
+Severity.”
+
+Moses and Noah bowed their heads. “It is true, Lord,” said Noah humbly.
+
+God continued:
+
+“At this moment Jonah does not see Me at all. In the first place, he
+is unhappy, and he no longer looks toward beauty. He believes that
+there is no more beauty in the world because his heart is broken. He is
+mistaken; and after a while his sorrow will sharpen his eyes. Then he
+will see more than before.”
+
+“In that case,” said Moses, “why do You bother Yourself?”
+
+The Lord considered a moment before replying. It was obvious that He
+wished to express Himself in terms intelligible to His hearers.
+
+“The trouble, My friends,” He said at last, “is this: our young prophet
+is a patriot. He is convinced that I am God of Israel alone. I do not
+mind that point of view in a prophet, but it will not do in a poet.
+Severity, glory, knowledge, belong to the nations, if you like. But
+beauty belongs to the world. It is the portion of all mankind in its
+God.
+
+“I have covered the heavens with beauty, the green spaces of the earth,
+the cloudy waters, the tall and snowy peaks. These are for all to see,
+these are for all to love. Shall any one take beauty from another, and
+say, ‘This is mine’?”
+
+“Now He is beginning to talk,” said Moses in an undertone to Noah;
+“this is like old times.”
+
+But God grew silent again. Presently he continued wearily,
+
+“It is your fault, Moses, that the Jews believe I belong to them
+entirely. Well, I do not blame you, for you could not have brought
+them safely through the desert otherwise. But you did not tell them
+that I was a bull. I foresee that for a long time yet men will be
+irresistibly led to worship Me in the form of an animal.”
+
+“Well, then,” said Noah, “if You foresee so much....”
+
+“Be silent,” said God, in a voice of thunder which made the wings of
+angels tremble. He continued more gently, “Actually, at the moment, I
+am not interested in theology. I am thinking of Jonah.”
+
+And He walked quietly up and down in the sky, thinking. The cherubim,
+moving all about Him, beat with their snowy wings the air perfumed with
+frankincense; and the clouds rolled under His feet.
+
+Left to themselves, Moses and Noah regarded each other in an unfriendly
+manner. At last Moses shrugged his shoulders. He was vexed to think
+that he did not know everything.
+
+“Well, old man,” he said to Noah, “have you nothing to talk about
+except the flood? You do not understand conditions in the world
+to-day.”
+
+“I understand this much,” replied Noah calmly, “that faith is more
+important than knowledge. Where would you be, with all your wisdom, if
+it had not been for me and my ark? You would be a fish, swimming in the
+sea.”
+
+“Do you take credit for saving your own skin?” cried Moses. “Wonderful.
+I, on the other hand, was very comfortable in Egypt. What I did was
+from the highest motives. I am not even sure that I am a Jew.”
+
+“I believed in God,” said Noah stoutly, “and I did as He told me.”
+
+“So did I,” said Moses angrily, “but I also used my wits a little.
+Faith is nothing; any animal can have faith. You and your faith had to
+get inside a wooden ark, in order to keep dry. But when I wished to
+take an entire nation across the sea, I simply parted the waters. I
+shall not tell you how I did it, because it would be lost on you. It
+takes a first-rate intelligence to understand such a thing.”
+
+Noah replied excitedly, “Please remember that I am your ancestor, and
+treat me with more respect.”
+
+“You are an old drunkard,” said Moses.
+
+But at this point God joined them again, and they were silent, to hear
+what the Holy One had to say.
+
+“This young man,” said God, “does not believe in Me any more. How then
+shall I convince him of Myself?”
+
+Desirous of showing his knowledge, Moses began to quote from the Book
+of Wisdom: “Infidelity, violence, envy, deceit, extreme avariciousness,
+a total want of qualities, with impurity, are the innate faults of
+womankind.”
+
+“Nevertheless,” said God, “they are also My creations. In My larger
+aspects I am as impure as I am pure; otherwise there would not be a
+balance. However, as I have said, we are not concerned with My larger
+aspects.”
+
+Noah broke in at this point. “Send him to sea, Lord,” he begged. “There
+is nothing like a long trip at sea to quiet the mind. It is very
+peaceful on the water. One forgets one’s disappointments.”
+
+“You are right,” said God; “we need the sea; it will give him peace.
+But as a matter of fact, I do not care whether he finds peace or not.
+As I have told you, I simply wish this poet to understand that I am
+God, and not Baal of Canaan. The attempt to confuse Me with a sun-myth,
+with the fertility of earth as symbolized by the figure of a bull, or
+a dove, vexes Me. Increase is man’s affair, not God’s. Besides, where
+will all this increase end? I regret the days of Adam and Eve and the
+Garden of Eden. Already there are more people on earth than I have any
+use for, socially speaking. Now I could wish there were more beauty in
+the world. I should like some poet to speak of Me in words other than
+those of a patriot. Yet if I try to explain Myself, who will understand
+Me? Not even you, Moses, with all your wisdom. And so I, in turn,
+must forget My wisdom, in order to explain Myself. I must act as the
+not-too-wise God of an ignorant people. That this is possible is due to
+the fact that along with infinite wisdom, I include within Myself an
+equal amount of ignorance.”
+
+He sighed deeply. “I shall send Jonah to Nineveh,” he concluded. “The
+subjects of King Shalmaneser the Third are honest, hard-working men and
+women. I enjoy, in some of My aspects, their vigorous and spectacular
+festivals. Nevertheless, repentance will not do them any harm, since
+for one thing they will not know exactly what it is they are asked to
+repent of, and for another, they will soon go back to their old ways
+again.
+
+“Thus I shall convince Jonah of Myself where he least expects to
+find Me. He shall hear from Me at sea, and again within the walls of
+Nineveh. It will surprise him. And perhaps the rude beauty of that city
+will speak to his heart, dreamy with woe.”
+
+“I do not doubt that it will surprise him,” said Moses, “but will he be
+convinced?”
+
+God did not answer. Already He was on his way to earth. And Noah,
+looking after Him, shook his hoary head with regret.
+
+“A flood would have been the better way,” he said.
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+
+God went down to the water. He stood on the shores of the sea and
+called; like the voice of the storm a name rolled forth from those
+august lips across the deep. And the deeps trembled. Presently a
+commotion took place in the waters; wet and black the huge form of
+Leviathan rose gleaming from the sea, and floated obediently before its
+God.
+
+The Lord spoke, and the whale listened. After He had explained the
+situation, God said:
+
+“I foresee that Jonah will not go to Nineveh as I command. He will
+attempt to flee from Me, and he will choose the sea as the best means
+of escape. It will not help him. I shall raise a storm upon the waters,
+and the ignorant sailors will cast him overboard as a sacrifice to the
+gods of the storm. That is where you can be of assistance to Me, My old
+friend. As he sinks through the water, I wish you to advance upon him,
+and swallow him.”
+
+“Ak,” said the whale; “O my.”
+
+“Well,” said God impatiently, “what is the matter?”
+
+The great fish blew a misty spray of water into the air. “It is
+impossible,” he declared; “in the first place, I should choke to death.”
+
+“You are an ignorant creature,” said God; “you have neither faith, nor
+science. Let Me tell you a few things about yourself in the light of
+future exegesis. Know then, that you are a cetacean, or whalebone type
+of whale. Such animals obtain their food by swimming on or near the
+surface of the water, with their jaws open.”
+
+“That is true,” said the whale, reverent and amazed.
+
+“The screen of whalebone,” continued the Lord, “opens inward, and
+admits solid objects to the animal’s mouth. This screen does not allow
+the egress of any solid matter, only of water. As the gullet is very
+small, only the smallest objects can pass down it.
+
+“Jonah will therefore be imprisoned in your mouth. You cannot swallow
+him; and he cannot get out, because of the screen of whalebone.”
+
+“Then he will suffocate,” said the whale.
+
+“Nonsense,” said God. “Remember that you are an air-breathing,
+warm-blooded animal, and can only dive because of the reservoir of air
+in your mouth. When this air becomes unfit to breathe, you must rise to
+the surface for a fresh supply.
+
+“While you have air to breathe, Jonah will have it also.
+
+“So do not hesitate any longer, but do as you are told.”
+
+The whale heaved a deep sigh; his breath groaned through the ocean,
+causing many smaller fish, terrified, to flee with trembling fins.
+
+“How horrid for me,” he exclaimed.
+
+God replied soothingly, “It will assure you a place in history.”
+
+So saying, the Lord blessed Leviathan, who sank sadly back to the
+depths of the sea; and, turning from the shore, the Light of Israel
+rolled like thunder across the valleys toward Golan.
+
+The night came to meet Him from the east, pouring down over the hills
+like smoke. In the cold night air God went to look for Jonah.
+
+Poor Jonah, he had not found peace after all. The lonely desert, so
+calm and quiet in the past, had given no rest to his thoughts. His
+mind went back over and over again to those days at home; he felt the
+wonder of the love-night, his heart shrank again with sickness for what
+followed. And he asked himself for the thousandth time how such things
+could be. Then he cried out against Judith for her cruelty; yet the
+next moment he forgave her.
+
+And these thoughts, climbing and falling wearily up and down through
+his head, kept him awake until long after the desert was asleep. In the
+morning, when he awoke, it was with regret; he tried to sleep a little
+longer, to keep his eyes closed, to keep from thinking again ... why
+wake at all? he wondered. There was nothing to wake to. Only the hot
+sun over the desert, only his heavy heart, which grew no lighter as the
+days went by.
+
+Why wake at all?
+
+God found him sitting wearily upon a rock, his head bowed between his
+hands. The Lord spoke, and the desert was silent.
+
+“Jonah,” said God in a voice like a great wave breaking, slowly, and
+with the peace of the sea, “Jonah, you have wept enough.”
+
+Jonah replied simply, “I have been waiting for You a long while, and I
+am very tired.”
+
+“I had not forgotten you,” said God; “I have been thinking.”
+
+And He added, “Now I have something for you to do.”
+
+Jonah remained seated without looking up. He seemed no longer to care
+what God had for him to do.
+
+“Arise, Jonah,” said God, “and go to Nineveh. Cry out against that
+great city for its sins.”
+
+But Jonah looked more dejected than ever. “What have I to do with
+Nineveh?” he asked. “Am I prophet to the Assyrians? I am a Jew. Do not
+mock me, Lord.”
+
+“I do not mock you,” said God gravely. “Go, then, and do My bidding.”
+
+And as Jonah did not reply, he added sadly, “Do you still doubt Me?”
+
+Jonah rose slowly to his feet. His eyes blazed, and his hands were
+tightly clenched. “Oh,” he cried bitterly, all the passion in his
+heart storming out at last in a torrent of despair, “You ... what are
+You God of? Were You God of Israel when a Tyrian stole my love? Was I
+Your prophet then? Have You power over Tyre, that You let Your servant
+suffer such anguish? Or are You God of the desert, where the demons
+mock me night and day, where the very stones cry out against me, and
+the whole night is noisy with laughter? Nineveh ... Nineveh ... in
+whose name shall I cry out against Nineveh? Do the gods of Assur visit
+their wrath upon Jerusalem? What power have You in Nineveh? For my
+youth which I gave You, what have You given me? How have You returned
+my love, with what sorrow? What have You done to me, Lord? I stand
+in the darkness, weary, and with a heavy heart. What are You God of?
+Answer: what are You God of?”
+
+And God answered gently, “I am your God, Jonah, and where you go, there
+you will find Me.”
+
+Jonah sank down upon the rock again. His passion had exhausted him; but
+he was not convinced. “Well,” he said in a whisper, “You are not God in
+Nineveh, and I will not go.”
+
+Then the wrath of the Lord, slow to start, flamed for a moment over the
+desert, and Jonah cowered to earth while the heavens groaned and the
+ground shook with fright. And in his hole by the pool in the Land of
+Tob, the little fox said to himself, “Jonah is talking to God.”
+
+But God’s anger passed, leaving Him sad and holy.
+
+“Peace unto you, Jonah,” He said in tones of divine sweetness; “take up
+your task, and doubt Me no more.”
+
+And He returned to heaven in a cloud. Overcome with weariness, empty
+of passion, Jonah fell asleep upon the ground.
+
+No jackals laughed that night. Silence brooded over the desert. The
+stars kept watch without a sound, and Jonah slept with a quiet heart.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+
+But in the morning his doubts returned more strongly than ever.
+“They will mock me in Nineveh,” he told himself. “I shall be made a
+laughing-stock. What power has the Light of Israel in the land of
+Marduk, of Dagon, of Istar, of the warrior Ashur? I should count myself
+lucky if I escaped being stoned to death.
+
+“For how can God destroy Nineveh? I might as well preach to the fish in
+the sea.”
+
+But now he had something to do, at least. He determined to flee from
+God. “I shall go to Tarshish,” he thought, “and begin life over again.
+There is nothing for me here any longer. The desert will be glad to be
+rid of me.”
+
+And without bothering even to return to his hut, he started south,
+toward Joppa, where he expected to find a ship bound west for Tarshish.
+
+He traveled swiftly, on other roads from those he had come. Late on the
+afternoon of the second day he crossed the Brook Kanah, and saw in the
+distance the white domed roofs of Joppa shining above the sea.
+
+As he came down from the low hills, the sight of ocean rounded like a
+bowl under the wide arch of the sky, the distant and titanic clouds
+piled above the unseen shores of Africa, filled his heart for a moment
+with beauty. But then he thought:
+
+“This is like Tyre. It is by the shore of this same sea that Judith has
+gone to live.”
+
+And he cursed the beauty that hurt him.
+
+It was late when he came to the shore, and night was already moving
+upon the deep. In profound silence he leaned above the harbor wall and
+regarded the shadowless water which with the sound of immemorial tides
+passed under him in the darkness. It was the season when the mists
+from the ocean blow landward in the evening. In the gray night fog the
+masts of the vessels at anchor rocked toward one another on the long,
+low waves; and the mist, salty with sea air, mingled along the quays
+with the odors of the city.
+
+It was the dark of the moon in the month of Nisan. The moon was gone,
+and his youth with it. Other moons would rise, fall through the
+branches of a tree, and cheat a bird to sing. But where would Jonah be?
+And Judith, in her great house over the terraces of Tyre; she would
+grow old, soon she would be like Deborah, looking backward over her
+life.... What happened to youth, to beauty? Where did they go? They
+hardly lasted at all.
+
+Night hung black and silent over the sea. The wings of angels leaned
+upon the wind which moved dark and vast between the earth and sky. The
+stars paled, and the sun rose like a ball of fire in the east. Then the
+ocean mist, cold as frost, melted away. The tide turned, and the waves,
+breaking far out, spoke with their murmur like the sound of wind to the
+sleeping city on the shore.
+
+In the morning Jonah found a ship bound for Tarshish. The cargo was
+already loaded; and when he had made his bargain, he went aboard.
+Bearded and singing, the seamen hoisted the sails, yellow as a slice
+of moon; with a sly, tranquil motion the ship moved out of the harbor,
+over the blue sea, sparkling in the sun, past sails stained blue as the
+sky, or brown as the sands. The white roofs of Joppa faded behind them
+in the east, lost in the gradual fog; the seagulls cried above them;
+and Jonah sat silent, dreaming, gazing at the sea.
+
+He was tired, and listless. “Now,” he said to himself, “God has lost
+me.”
+
+And he thought of Deborah with sadness and peace. He remembered what
+she had said to him, as she had held him, weeping bitterly, in her
+arms, on her breast.
+
+“Jonah,” she had said, “when you are dead, or perhaps very old and
+ready to die, people will say of you, ‘There, he was a great prophet.’
+And they will feel honored because they knew you, because their names
+will be spoken of with yours. But now ...” she sighed; she wanted to
+say, “now you are only a nuisance.”
+
+What she finally said was, “Well, people are like that.”
+
+But Jonah knew what she wanted to say. And as he sat quietly on the
+deck of the ship under the yellow, curved sail, he thought,
+
+“I shall not bother anybody now.”
+
+The warmth of the sun, reflected from the sea, entered his mind and
+lulled his limbs. Sea-quiet took hold of him; the peace of ocean bathed
+his spirit. He grew drowsier and drowsier; he began to doze. And as he
+fell asleep, his last thought was that he had got away from God.
+
+All day the sails sang in the wind, under the sun. Jonah slept; his
+dreams swept out like homing birds over the calm waters; and in his
+sleep he wept.
+
+But in the afternoon the wind died away; an ominous haze enveloped the
+sky; and the sea grew oily. The sails were hastily drawn in; and the
+oars were made ready. Huddled together on the deck, the seamen spoke in
+low, anxious voices. All eyes were turned toward the east, which grew
+darker and darker. All was still; the air did not stir. Moved by fear,
+the men trembled; and as though herself frightened, the ship started
+to creak in all her timbers. All at once the sky uttered a moan; high
+above them the air began to sing; and the sea rolled in slow, unwilling
+swells. And then it seemed as if the sky fell down upon the sea, for
+the water rose like the hills, and the dark came down upon it. Unable
+to move, the ship trembled from bow to stern, lifted dizzily upon the
+waves, tilted in the wind, and dropped like a stone into the trough.
+The gulls were flattened to the sea, and the air was filled with the
+shout of the gale, and the crash of water falling upon itself. It was
+God’s storm, but Satan also was enjoying it.
+
+Pale with fear, the sailors rushed to lighten the ship by throwing the
+cargo overboard. Then, as the tiny vessel dashed about in the water
+like a cork, they fell upon their knees and prayed to their gods, to
+Ramman, the thunderer, to Dagon, to Enlil, the old god of storms.
+
+Seeing that Jonah still slept, sheltered by the deck which curved above
+him, the captain ran to awaken him. “Here,” he said, “this is a storm.
+Well, see for yourself. You should be more anxious, my friend. Have
+you a god? Then pray to him, for we need all the help we can get.”
+
+Dazed by the tumult, still half asleep, Jonah gazed in confusion at the
+heaving waters. The wind lashed him to the deck; he stared in dismay at
+the mighty waves rising above him on every side like mountains. “I will
+not pray,” he said. And the captain shrank back at the sight of his
+face.
+
+But the seamen, clinging to the deck, looked anxiously at Jonah, and
+at the great seas which broke over them without ceasing. “This is no
+common storm,” they told each other; “some great god is angry.”
+
+They were good and simple men. Had one of them sinned, to draw down
+upon them all such wrath? No, it was Jonah, the stranger whose face
+was like a demon’s, dark as the storm itself. They looked at him with
+terror.
+
+And Jonah looked back at them as frightened as they were. His mind
+reeled; had he not got away from God after all? Had God come after
+him--out there on the sea? Was there no way to flee from God?
+
+Why had he tried to run away? What a fool.... God would never forgive
+him for it.
+
+And then, in the crash of wind and water, a feeling of disdain came
+over Jonah, a bitter strength, a final pride. Well, here was the storm
+... here was God still. God had taken everything away from him. What
+was his life worth to him now? Oh, be done with it, once and for all.
+“Look ... if You want it, God ... it is of no value to me any more....”
+
+“It is my fault,” he said to the sailors proudly. “I alone am to blame.
+I am a Jew who has denied his God. It is my life that is wanted. Throw
+me overboard.”
+
+But the sailors were frightened, and they would not touch him. “No,”
+they said, “we will row back to Joppa again. Then your god can do as
+he likes. If we throw you overboard, you will drown. Then we shall have
+blood upon our hands.”
+
+They tried with all their strength to row against the storm. But the
+black sea, breaking, splintered their oars, and the wind pressed them
+backwards.
+
+Then they said humbly, in fear, “This sea belongs to Iaveh, the god of
+the Jews. We cannot prevail against him any longer.”
+
+And seizing Jonah, they cast him overboard, with a prayer. “Do not lay
+innocent blood upon us,” they said, “O god of the Jews. This is your
+doing, not ours.”
+
+So saying they waited, trembling.
+
+At once the sea grew calm, the wind died away, and the sun sank
+tranquilly down in the clear west. The peace of evening brooded again
+upon the water. And the ship, with all her sails set for Joppa, fled to
+the east.
+
+Jonah sank through the waters without complaint. It was the end,
+and he had no desire to live. But as his breath failed, so his mind
+brought back to him the blue and shining sky, the sweet odors of the
+desert, the happy dreams of his youth, of glory, of peace. He began to
+struggle; his body fought against the sea, his mind shouted against
+death. “No,” he cried to himself, “no, I must live; I must live.”
+
+With a groan Leviathan hurled himself through the waves and took the
+prophet into his mouth.
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+
+In the darkness the whale spoke to Jonah. “What a lot of trouble you
+have made for yourself,” he said. And he told Jonah how God had made
+arrangements.
+
+Jonah was not unhappy. In the whale’s mouth he was uncomfortable, but
+he had a great deal to think about. His mind was filled with wonder.
+
+So it turned out that God was at home everywhere; that He commanded the
+fish of the sea, as well as the hosts of the air, and the creatures of
+the land. That was an extraordinary thing.
+
+What an upset to theology.
+
+Jonah asked the whale many questions. And the whale, who had often
+thought about such things as he rested among the weeds at the bottom
+of the sea, answered him as best he could.
+
+“Do you deny,” said Jonah, “that God created man in His own image?”
+
+“No,” replied the whale, “but on the other hand, do you suppose God
+has only one image? And then it depends, besides, on who is looking;
+because people do not see things all alike. Well, do you suppose a
+whale does not also look like God?”
+
+“A whale does not look like God at all,” replied Jonah firmly.
+
+“Still,” said the whale thoughtfully, “the most beautiful sight in the
+world, in my opinion, is a female whale. And you must admit I have seen
+as much of God as you have. So you see what difficulties you make for
+yourself.”
+
+But Jonah would not believe that God looked like a whale. And they
+discussed other aspects of theology.
+
+The whale swam through the waters green with daylight, or black with
+night, rising to the surface now and then to breathe. Out of respect
+for the sanctity of the prophet, he did not attempt to eat any of the
+small fish which fled in terror from his path. “We will fast together,”
+he said kindly to Jonah.
+
+In his warm, black prison, Jonah slept, and woke, and thought about
+God. His spirit lifted; he felt peaceful, resigned, and almost happy.
+Gone was the bitter sense of defeat, the shame of betrayal. What if his
+heart ached still? he had God again. And what a God, now that he saw
+Him: the thunder of sea-surges, the holy calm of the desert, all peace,
+all beauty, were His ... one need not seek it, it was there, it was
+everywhere. Jerusalem was His--Tarshish and Tyre....
+
+“I am your God, Jonah, and where you go, there you will find Me.”
+
+Tyre was His, too. The Master strode through the streets of the city
+with thunder on His brow, with love and sorrow in His hands. And His
+prophet walked beside Him, wrapped in glory, like a king.
+
+When they came to Judith’s house it was Jonah who blessed it with
+gently outstretched arms.
+
+“My sister,” he said; “my poor, faithless love.”
+
+The whale asked Jonah what he was doing. “I was dreaming,” said Jonah.
+
+“I think you had better pray,” said the whale. So Jonah prayed.
+
+“Lord, I have sinned,” he said humbly. “I was unhappy; and I ran away.
+And for that reason You cast me into the sea; the waves passed over me.
+
+“The waves passed over my soul, Lord.
+
+“I went down to the bottom of the hills; the bars of the earth were
+about me. But I did not perish. You heard my cry, and You remembered
+me. I thank You, Lord.
+
+“Look, I am not vain any longer; I do not wish anything for myself.
+Let me do Your bidding again, with a quiet heart.”
+
+And he added with a cry, “Give me peace, Lord.”
+
+The whale swam on, past schools of appetizing fish, down through the
+dim flower-branches of the sea’s deep bed, up through sunny foam.
+Hungry, weary, but hopeful, the great fish waited patiently for God to
+speak.
+
+On the third day, God spoke. And the whale, lashing the waters with his
+tail, sped like an eager minnow to the shore, and vomited Jonah forth
+upon the sand.
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+
+Jonah was let out of the whale in the North, near Arvad, and not far
+from Kadesh as a crow might fly, which is to say, over the coastal
+hills and then in a straight line across the jungles and the desert.
+This was the route he took as being the shortest way to Nineveh. He was
+in a hurry; he was impatient to begin his mission. He was filled with
+enthusiasm.
+
+How different from his flight to sea, this vigorous return across the
+land dry with the sun of midsummer. Now he marched with a firm and
+hurried step, his face darkly radiant with divine purpose, with pious
+anger. Yes, he would speak; Nineveh would hear him. Let them stone him
+if they liked, God would amply repay them for it. What glory.
+
+And this was all his, not hers, not for her sake; let her be proud of
+him if she liked; what did it matter any more? She would hear enough of
+it in Tyre; Jonah here, and Jonah there....
+
+Yes, they would speak of it in Tyre.
+
+As he passed the wayside altars of the baalim with their pillars
+surmounted by horns of sacrifices, he smiled at them in derision.
+
+“You,” he said scornfully, “you ... what are you gods of, anyway?”
+
+At Kadesh he saw statues of the river deities, Chrysonhoa and Pegai. He
+spat in the dust before them; fortunately, no one was looking. In the
+sun of late afternoon their shadows pointed like great spears toward
+Nineveh.
+
+“Israel will hear my name again,” he thought proudly.
+
+The evergreen oaks of the hills gave way to the tamarisks of the Syrian
+jungles, and the palms and scrub of the desert. He slept the first
+night in the wilderness between Kadesh and Rehoboth. The jackals were
+silent, awed by the presence of lions among the rocks. Padding to and
+fro, the great beasts watched Jonah from afar, with eyes like flames.
+And Jonah dreamed of Deborah; when he awoke, he remembered her gentle
+smile.
+
+In the fresh light of early morning a mother goat divided her milk
+between the prophet and her ewe. “These are stirring times, Jonah,” she
+said; “angels are abroad in great numbers.” Recognizing a minor deity,
+Jonah blessed her and resumed his journey.
+
+At the end of the second day he began to pass the boundary stones of
+Assyria, set up to warn trespassers upon private property. Thinking
+them altars, Jonah cursed each one as he went by. The next day he
+passed kilns in which colored bricks were being baked. As far as he
+could see, the blue, green, and yellow bricks stood in rows on the red
+earth.
+
+That night he slept outside the gates of Nineveh. The city rose above
+him in the dark; he heard the sentries challenge on the walls.
+
+In the morning he entered the city with some farmers on their way to
+the markets. The sun was rising, gleaming upon the great winged bulls
+before the temples, the green and yellow lions upon the walls. Under
+the clear upland sky the city shone with color like a fair. The markets
+opened; the streets filled with men and women in their colored shawls
+and clashing ornaments. And Jonah, looking and looking, was astonished.
+“Why,” he thought, “this is strange; there is something bright and bold
+about all this. This is fine, after all.” And he felt a gayety of heart
+take hold of him. How vigorous these mountain people looked with their
+insolent faces and their swaggering air. There was nothing old or sad
+in Nineveh. He forgot why he had come; he was excited, and happy. It
+was not at all what he had expected; and he forgot himself.
+
+But not for long. As the hours passed, he grew weary; and as the
+brightness wore off, and he began to think of his own life again, he
+began to hate Nineveh, to hate the bold colors all around him, the
+youth that carried itself so proudly and carelessly in the streets.
+“Yes,” he thought, “that is all very well for you; but you know
+nothing about life.” And, lifting his arms, he cried aloud with gloomy
+satisfaction, “Yet forty days, and Nineveh shall be overthrown.”
+
+The success of this remark astonished him. Without waiting to find
+out any more about it, the Assyrians hurried home and put ashes on
+their heads. Nineveh repented like a child of its sins; in an orgy
+of humility the city gave up its business, and dressed itself in
+sackcloth. The king, even, left his throne, and sat down in some ashes.
+
+Jonah was vexed. This, also, was not what he had expected. He had
+looked for a wind of fury, for stones, and curses, and a final effect
+of glory. And when he learned that because of its repentance Nineveh
+was to be spared, his courage gave way in a flood of disappointment.
+
+“I knew it,” he said bitterly to God; “I knew You’d never do it.”
+
+And with an angry countenance he retired to an open field on the east
+side of the city, to see what would happen. His heart was very sore.
+
+“Where is my glory now?” he thought.
+
+Then God, who was anxiously watching, spoke to Jonah from the sky. “Why
+are you angry?” said the Holy One. “Have I done you a wrong?”
+
+Jonah replied, sighing, “Who will ever believe me now, Lord?”
+
+And for the rest of the day he maintained a silence, full of reproach.
+
+Then because the sun was very hot, and because where Jonah was sitting
+there was no shade of any sort, God made a vine grow up, overnight, to
+shelter Jonah.
+
+“There,” said God, “there is a vine for you. Rest awhile and see.”
+
+That day Jonah sat in comfort beneath his shelter. The wind was in the
+west, full of agreeable odors; at noon a farmer brought him meal, salt,
+and oil; he ate, was refreshed, and dozed beneath his vine. The sun
+went down over the desert; and the evening star grew brighter in the
+sky, which shone with a peaceful light. The dews descended; and Jonah,
+wrapped in his cloak, dreamed of home.
+
+But in the morning worms had eaten the leaves of the vine; gorged and
+comfortable, they regarded Jonah from the ground with pious looks. As
+the day progressed, the sun beat down upon him without pity, a strong
+wind blew up from the east, out of the desert, and the prophet grew
+faint with misery. Too hot even to sweat, he nevertheless refused to
+move.
+
+“No,” he said, “I shall sit here.”
+
+An obstinate rage kept him out in the sun, although he half expected to
+die of it. “Well,” he said to himself, “what if I do?”
+
+It seemed to him that he had nothing more to live for.
+
+Then God said to Jonah, “Do you do well to be angry, My son?”
+
+Jonah did not wish to reply. But he was sure of one thing: that he had
+every right to be angry. “Why did You wither my vine, Lord?” he asked
+bitterly. “Was that also necessary?”
+
+God, looking down on His prophet, smiled sadly. “What is a vine?” He
+said gently. “Was it your vine, Jonah? You neither planted it nor
+cared for it. It came up in a night, and it perished in a night. And
+now you think I should have spared the vine for your sake. Yes ... but
+what of Nineveh, that great city, where there are so many people who
+cannot discern between their right hand and their left hand? Shall I
+not spare them, too, for My sake, Jonah?”
+
+Jonah rose wearily to his feet. “Well,” he said, “I may as well go home
+again.”
+
+And with bowed head he passed through the city, and out of the western
+gate. In the streets the citizens made way for him with pious murmurs
+and anxious looks, but Jonah did not notice them. All his courage was
+gone, his pride, his hope of glory, all gone down in the dust of God’s
+mercy to others, to all but him. To him alone God had been merciless
+and exacting. One by one the warm hopes of the youth, the ardors of
+the man, had been denied him; peace, love, pride, everything had been
+taken from him. What was there left? Only the desert, stony as life
+itself ... only the empty heart, the deliberate mind, the bare and
+patient spirit. Well, Jonah ... what a fool to think of anything else.
+Glory ... yes, but the glory is God’s, not yours.
+
+But he had not learned even that. He was not a good prophet. The
+flowers of his hope, the bitter blossoms of his grief, sprang up
+everywhere, where there should have been only waste brown earth. No, he
+was not a prophet; he was a man, like anybody else, whose love had been
+false, whose God had been unkind....
+
+And as he trudged dejectedly along, his heart, bare now of pride,
+filled with loneliness and longing. He thought of Judith, of the
+happiness that would never be his; and he wept.
+
+High among the clouds, God turned sadly to Moses. “You Jews,” He said
+wearily, “you do not understand beauty. With you it is either glory or
+despair.”
+
+And with a sigh He looked westward to the blue Ægean. Warm and gold the
+sunlight lay over Greece.
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
+
+
+  Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
+
+  Perceived typographical errors have been corrected.
+
+  Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.
+
+  New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the
+    public domain.
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76998 ***