A deep sigh from her friend recalled her to the present, and with a last look at the star she turned away. To Patricia the sight of Bethlehem was like a silent reproach. It recalled with almost vivid clearness the many Christmas Days of her childhood, and how thoroughly she had entered into the spirit of the Festival; for she had been a Christian then. She was silent as they re-entered their little carriage and were driven onwards towards the village of Bêt Sahûr; and the Princess also seemed to have little to say. Their destination this time was the field “where shepherds watched their flocks by night, all seated on the ground”; and arrived there they alighted to stroll among the olive groves. Near by, the Field of Boaz brought to their minds the charming idyll of Ruth the gleaner, and they could almost imagine the sweet Hebrew maiden gathering the ears of corn. Gazing down the slopes, they could see far away in the distance the brilliant waters of the Dead Sea; above them was the still deeper blue of the Syrian sky. “This is heavenly!” exclaimed the Princess, as she flung herself down on the dry turf. “It only needs the music of Handel’s Pastoral Symphony to complete the scene. The very atmosphere seems to breathe peace.” “I did not think you could be so enthusiastic,” said Patricia, with a smile. “I thought you were one of the _nil admirari_ kind.” “So I am—sometimes; it’s just how I feel. Nature appeals to me much more than the showy buildings wrought by the hand of man. Do you know, I made a splendid resolution when we were in the little crypt of the Nativity. I believe Palestine is making me good. I suppose you think I can do with it, Pat?” she added, with a naïve smile. Patricia glanced at her curiously. “I don’t know,” she returned honestly. “I believe your heart is in the right place, and I know you wouldn’t hurt a fly if you could help it. But you might be kinder to a certain person, you know.” “My husband? Yes. It is concerning him that I have made the resolution. Of course he is rather stupid, but I suppose he can’t help it, and I’m afraid I did treat him rather badly. You see he always let me squash him; and he is so delicate that it made me feel mean—as if I had thrown a stone at a child. If he had placed himself on the defensive, I should not have minded in the least. But if I smote him on one cheek, he would turn the other to me also; and no woman could stand that.” “Why smite him at all?” asked Patricia pertinently. “Is it not better to live in peace?” “Ye—es; but if you were shut up in that grim old castle at Felsen-Schvoenig with an invalid husband, I believe even your sweet temper would be tried. However, I promised God in that little cave of the Nativity that I would go home and try and make Karl a better wife. I haven’t the least idea what made me think of Karl just then; his figure seemed to rise up and reproach me when I was looking at the star.”