came again to the Jaffa Gate, where he sat down, firmly resolved to
wait till some Christian pilgrims came, for they came hither from all
countries of the world. He wanted to beg from them till he had collected
the thirty zecchines. So he sat through the first night without anybody
coming. Towards morning the door was opened for the peasants who brought
in provisions, and the bold idea occurred to him of trying to get in
with them, but he was immediately detected and thrashed again. This,
however, did not frighten him; he repeated the attempt every morning,
though unsuccessfully. He slept on the ground, and ate from the rubbish
heaps; he was jeered at by the children, beaten by the adults, and
took everything quietly, convinced that some day his dream would be
fulfilled. For thirty days he sat at the gate and received no money,
but on the thirty-first he got up in order to take some exercise. He
wandered down into the Valley of Hinnom, and his dog “Trusty” ran in
front of him.
After he had walked for a while he noticed that his companion had
vanished. When he called him, the dog answered by barking. The pilgrim
followed the sound, and presently he saw the dog standing by a hole
in the wall. There was an entrance, and, following his guide, he came
without hindrance right into the town. The first thing he did was to
visit the Holy Sepulchre, but it was closed. Then he remembered that
there was a Patriarch of Jerusalem, who in some degree acted as a
protector of the Christians. But where did he live? “Perhaps you know,”
he said to the dog.
The dog understood, pricked up his ears, and ran through a labyrinth of
crooked streets till he stood at a little door, with a bell-cord hanging
by it. The pilgrim pulled it, the door opened, and an old white-bearded
man came out, reached the new-comer his hand, led him like a friend into
the house, and bade him sit down. “I have waited long for you, Peter,”
he said. “Yes, I recognise you, for I have seen you for a year in my
dreams, but I know not who you are, and whence you come. Tell me your
history.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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