"It is Zeinab, the beautiful child of Hassan," said the Jewess. "She will be well again now. The paroxysms have come before." "Sit you down, friend," said her husband to Yusuf. "We were just about to break bread. 'Tis a scanty meal," he added, with a smile. "But we have been enjoined to 'be not forgetful to entertain strangers,' because many have thus entertained angels unawares. We shall be glad of the company." There was a manly uprightness in the look and tone of Nathan the Jew which caught Yusuf's fancy at once, and he sat down without hesitation at the humble board. And there, in that little, dingy room, he saw the first gleam of that radiant light which was to transform the whole of his after life. He heard of the trials and disappointments, of the heroic fortitude born of that trust in and union with God which he had so craved. He received his first glimpse of a God, human as we are human, who understands every longing, every doubt, every agony that can bleed the heart of a poor child of earth. He scarcely dared yet to believe that this God was one really with him at all times and in all places, seeing, hearing, knowing, sympathizing. He scarcely dared to realize the possibility of a companionship with him, or the fact that the mediation of the planet-spirits was but a myth. Yet he did feel, in a vague way, that the light was breaking, and a tumultuous, undefined, hopeful ecstasy took possession of his being. Yusuf's heart was ready for the reception of the truth. He was unprejudiced. He had cast aside all dependence upon the tenets of his former belief. He had become as a little child anxious for rest upon its father's bosom. He sought only God, and to him the light came quickly. There was an infinity of blessed truth to learn yet, but, as he went out into the night, he knew that a something had come into his life, transforming and ennobling it. The divinity within him throbbed heart to heart with the Divinity that is above all, in all, throughout all good. Though vaguely, he felt God; he knew that now, at last, he had entered upon the right road. Then he thought of Amzi. He must try to tell him all this. Surely Amzi the learned, the benevolent, would rejoice too in hearing the story of Jesus' life on earth, of his coming as an expression of the love of God to man, that man might know God. Through the dark streets he hastened, thinking, wondering, rejoicing. He sought the bedside of Amzi on the flat roof. "Amzi, awake!" he cried. "What now, night-hawk?" said the Meccan, in his good-natured, half-railing tone. "Why pounce upon a man thus in the midst of his slumbers?" "Amzi, I have heard glorious news of him--that Jesus of whom we have talked!" "Well?"