* * * * * One day his travels led him to a beautiful spot, through woods and fields. It was a wonderful day. The sun, midway in the sky, did not burn, but laughed and sang of the splendour of existence, pouring out joy upon the entire land, upon wood and field, upon tree and grass. All the birds and beasts and insects laughed and sang together with it. Rabbi Akiba, filled with the great gladness, forgot the passage of the Torah that was running through his mind and across his lips but a moment before, and could not remove his glance from the sunny splendours that surrounded him. Suddenly it seemed as if some one had thrust him backward. But it was nobody. It was his own blood, and the blow that he had felt was the throb of his own heart. Were not his eyes deceiving him? He opened them wide and looked again, intently. No. His eyes saw clearly. A wondrously beautiful naked girl at the top of a palm tree. He could not believe his eyes, but there was the girl looking down at him, smiling at him so enticingly, intoxicating him with the pearly whiteness of her teeth. She was so beautiful and entrancing that the sun had forgot its wedding-procession. It had stopped in its path—this shining star—and had enfolded the maiden’s naked body in its rays, colouring it a rosy red and filling its veins with red wine. Rabbi Akiba, too, stopped in his path, unable to move from the spot, unable to tear himself away from the dazzling vision. His heart palpitated, his body burned, his tongue became dry. He stood dumbfounded, and could not himself hear how he barely managed to utter, “Who are you?” And the vision upon the tree laughed seductively down to him. “Come up and I will tell you.” “What are you doing there?” “Come up, and you shall see.” “Are you gathering dates?” “What need have I of them? I feed myself and feed others with my own sweetness. Do you not wish to taste it?” “Why are you naked?” “So that the sunbeams may enjoy me, and the wind, and the hills, and the valleys, and the heavens, and God.” “How can you lie there so?” “I have a couch here made of leaves and branches,—a soft couch for me and for those whom I invite to enjoy me. Soft is my bed and fragrant,—but even softer and more fragrant am I. Will you not feel us?” And in utter forgetfulness, filled with a single intense desire, Rabbi Akiba approached very close to the tree and scarcely had breath to ask, “How can I get to you?” The glorious vision uttered a magic laugh.