threw herself at his feet, clasping him around the
knees. She had seen his white cap and the winged circle on his breast.

"Have pity on me," she cried, "and save me, for the sake of the God of
Purity! I also am a daughter of the true religion which is taught by
the Magi. My father was a merchant of Parthia, but he is dead, and I
am seized for his debts to be sold as a slave. Save me from worse than
death!"

Artaban trembled.

It was the old conflict in his soul, which had come to him in the
palm-grove of Babylon and in the cottage at Bethlehem--the conflict
between the expectation of faith and the impulse of love. Twice the gift
which he had consecrated to the worship of religion had been drawn
to the service of humanity. This was the third trial, the ultimate
probation, the final and irrevocable choice.

Was it his great opportunity, or his last temptation? He could not tell.
One thing only was clear in the darkness of his mind--it was inevitable.
And does not the inevitable come from God?

One thing only was sure to his divided heart--to rescue this helpless
girl would be a true deed of love. And is not love the light of the
soul?

He took the pearl from his bosom. Never had it seemed so luminous, so
radiant, so full of tender, living lustre. He laid it in the hand of the
slave.

"This is thy ransom, daughter! It is the last of my treasures which I
kept for the King."

While he spoke, the darkness of the sky deepened, and shuddering tremors
ran through the earth heaving convulsively like the breast of one who
struggles with mighty grief.

The walls of the houses rocked to and fro. Stones were loosened and
crashed into the street. Dust clouds filled the air. The soldiers fled
in terror, reeling like drunken men. But Artaban and the girl whom he
had ransomed crouched helpless beneath the wall of the Praetorium.

What had he to fear? What had he to hope? He had given away the last
remnant of his tribute for the King. He had parted with the last hope
of finding him. The quest was over, and it had failed. But, even in that
thought, accepted and embraced, there was peace. It was not resignation.
It was not submission. It was something more profound and searching. He
knew that all was well, because he had done the best that he could from
day to day. He had been true to the light that had been given to him.
He had looked for more. And if he had not found it, if a failure was
all that came out of his life, doubt