new thoughts and dreams whereby he may live.  I did not foresee this double nakedness, or else might have left him to die on the cross.  Will he, can he, forgive me?  A moment afterwards he recovered hope, for Jesus did not seem to know that the hills beyond the terrace were the Judean hills, and then, as if forgetting the matter in hand (his projected residence in Caesarea), he began to speak of Bethlehem, saying he could not think of Bethlehem without thinking of Nazareth, a remark that was obscure to Joseph, who did not know Nazareth.  It was to make some answer—­for Jesus seemed to be waiting for him to answer—­that Joseph said:  Nazareth is far from Caesarea, a remark that he soon perceived to be unfortunate, for it awakened doubts in Jesus that he was no longer welcome in Joseph’s house.  Why speakest thou of Caesarea to me? he said.  Is it because thou wouldst rid thyself of me?  Whereupon Joseph besought Jesus to lay aside the thought that he, Joseph, wished him away.  I would have thee with me always, deeming it a great honour; but Esora has charge of thy health and has asked me to say that a change is needed.

My health, Jesus interrupted.  Am I not getting my strength quickly? do not send me away, Joseph, for I am weak in body and in mind; let me stay with thee a little longer; a few days; a few weeks.  If I go to Caesarea I must learn Greek, for that is the language spoken there, and thou’lt teach me Greek, Joseph.  Send me not away.  But there is no thought of sending thee away, Joseph answered; my house is thy house for as long as thou carest to remain, and the words were spoken with such an accent of truth that Jesus answered them with a look that went straight to Joseph’s heart; but while he rejoiced Jesus’ mind seemed to float away:  he was absent from himself again, and Joseph had begun to think that all that could be said that day had been said on the subject of his departure from Judea, when a little memory began to be stirring in Jesus, as Esora would say, like a wind in a field.

I remember thee, Joseph, as one to whom I did a great wrong, but what that wrong was I have forgotten.  Do not try to recall it, Joseph said to him, no wrong was done, Jesus.  Thou’rt the rich man’s son, he said, and what I remember concerning thee is thy horse, for he was handsomer than any other.  His name was Xerxes.  Dost still ride him?  Is he in the stables of yon house?  He was sold, Joseph answered, to pay for our journey in Syria, and some of the price went to pay for thy cloak.  The cloak on my shoulders?  Jesus asked.  The cloak on thy shoulders is one of my cloaks.  Thou earnest here naked.  I was carried here by an angel, Jesus replied, for I felt the feathers of his wings brush across my face.  But why that strange look, Joseph?—­those curious, inquisitive eyes?  It was an angel that carried me hither.  No, Jesus, it was I that carried thee out of the sepulchre up the crooked path.  What is thy purpose in saying that it was no angel but thou?  Jesus asked; and