“Thy life is in thine hand,” said the woman, speaking close to the boy’s ear.  “It is yet time.  Turn with me and let us go back.”

The mysterious radiance lit up the youth’s beautiful face in the dark street and showed the fearless yet gentle smile that was on his lips.

“What is there to fear?” he asked.

“Death,” answered the woman in a trembling tone.  “They will kill thee, and it shall be upon my head.”

“And what is Death?” he asked again, and the smile was still upon his face as he led the way up the steps.

The woman bowed her head and drew her veil more closely about her and followed him.  Then they were within the church, darker, more ghostly, less rich in those days than now.  The boy stood beside the hewn stone basin wherein was the blessed water, and he touched the frozen surface with his fingers, and held them out to his companion.

“Is it thus?” he asked.  And the heavenly smile grew more radiant as he made the sign of the Cross.

Again the woman inclined her head.

“Be it not upon me!” she exclaimed earnestly.  “Though I would it might be for ever so with thee.”

“It is for ever,” the boy answered.

He went forward and prostrated himself before the high altar, and the soft light hovered above him.  The woman knelt at a little distance from him, with clasped hands and upturned eyes.  The church was very dark and silent.

An old man in a monk’s robe came forward out of the shadow of the choir and stood behind the marble rails and looked down at the boy’s prostrate figure, wonderingly.  Then the low gateway was opened and he descended the three steps and bent down to the young head.

“What wouldest thou?” he asked.

Simon Abeles rose until he knelt, and looked up into the old man’s face.

“I am a Jew.  I would be a Christian.  I would be baptized.”

“Fearest thou not thy people?” the monk asked.

“I fear not death,” answered the boy simply.

“Come with me.”

Trembling, the woman followed them both, and all were lost in the gloom of the church.  They were not to be seen, and all was still for a space.  Suddenly a clear voice broke the silence.

“Ego baptizo te in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.”

Then the woman and the boy were standing again without the entrance in the chilly air, and the ancient monk was upon the threshold under the carved arch; his thin hands, white in the darkness, were lifted high, and he blessed them, and they went their way.

In the moving vision the radiance was brighter still and illuminated the streets as they moved on.  Then a cloud descended over all, and certain days and weeks passed, and again the boy was walking swiftly toward the church.  But the woman was not with him, and he believed that he was alone, though the messengers of evil were upon him.  Two dark figures moved in the shadow, silent, noiseless in their walk, muffled in long garments.  He went on, no longer deigning to look back, beyond fear as he had ever been, and beyond even the expectation of a danger.  He went into the church, and the two men made gestures, and spoke in low tones, and hid themselves in the shade of the buttresses outside.