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〃And remember； my son；〃 said he； fixing his eyes upon the
face of Artaban； 〃the King whom thou seekest is not to be
found in a palace； nor among the rich and powerful。 If the
light of the world and the glory of Israel had been appointed
to come with the greatness of earthly splendour； it must have
appeared long ago。 For no son of Abraham will ever again
rival the power which Joseph had in the palaces of Egypt； or
the magnificence of Solomon throned between the lions in
Jerusalem。 But the light for which the world is waiting is a new
light； the glory that shall rise out of patient and triumphant
suffering。 And the kingdom which is to be established forever is
a new kingdom； the royalty of unconquerable love。
〃I do not know how this shall come to pass； nor how the
turbulent kings and peoples of earth shall be brought to
acknowledge the Messiah and pay homage to him。 But this I
know。 Those who seek him will do well to look among the poor
and the lowly； the sorrowful and the oppressed。〃
So I saw the Other Wise Man again and again； travelling
from place to place； and searching among the people of the
dispersion； with whom the little family from Bethlehem might；
perhaps； have found a refuge。 He passed through countries
where famine lay heavy upon the land； and the poor were crying
for bread。 He made his dwelling in plague…stricken cities
where the sick were languishing in the bitter companionship of
helpless misery。 He visited the oppressed and the afflicted
in the gloom of subterranean prisons； and the crowded
wretchedness of slave…markets； and the weary toil of
galley…ships。 In all this populous and intricate world of
anguish； though he found none to worship； he found many to help。
He fed the hungry； and clothed the naked； and healed the sick；
and comforted the captive； and his years passed more swiftly than
the weaver's shuttle that flashes back and forth through the loom
while the web grows and the pattern is completed。
It seemed almost as if he had forgotten his quest。 But
once I saw him for a moment as he stood alone at sunrise；
waiting at the gate of a Roman prison。 He had taken from a
secret resting…place in his bosom the pearl； the last of his
jewels。 As he looked at it； a mellower lustre； a soft and
iridescent light； full of shifting gleams of azure and rose；
trembled upon its surface。 It seemed to have absorbed some
reflection of the lost sapphire and ruby。 So the secret
purpose of a noble life draws into itself the memories of past
joy and past sorrow。 All that has helped it； all that has
hindered it； is transfused by a subtle magic into its very
essence。 It becomes more luminous and precious the longer it
is carried close to the warmth of the beating heart。
Then； at last； while I was thinking of this pearl； and of
its meaning； I heard the end of the story of the Other Wise
Man。
V
Three…and…thirty years of the life of Artaban had passed away；
and he was still a pilgrim and a seeker after light。 His
hair； once darker than the cliffs of Zagros； was now white as
the wintry snow that covered them。 His eyes； that once
flashed like flames of fire； were dull as embers smouldering
among the ashes。
Worn and weary and ready to die； but still looking for the
King； he had come for the last time to Jerusalem。 He had
often visited the holy city before； and had searched all its
lanes and crowded bevels and black prisons without finding any
trace of the family of Nazarenes who had fled from Bethlehem
long ago。 But now it seemed as if he must make one more
effort； and something whispered in his heart that； at last； he
might succeed。
It was the season of the Passover。 The city was thronged
with strangers。 The children of Israel； scattered in far lands；
had returned to the Temple for the great feast； and there had
been a confusion of tongues in the narrow streets for many days。
But on this day a singular agitation was visible in the
multitude。 The sky was veiled with a portentous gloom。
Currents of excitement seemed to flash through the crowd。 A
secret tide was sweeping them all one way。 The clatter of
sandals and the soft； thick sound of thousands of bare feet
shuffling over the stones； flowed unceasingly along the street
that leads to the Damascus gate。
Artaban joined a group of people from his own country；
Parthian Jews who had come up to keep the Passover； and
inquired of them the cause of the tumult； and where they were
going。
〃We are going；〃 they answered； 〃to the place called
Golgotha； outside the city walls； where there is to be an
execution。 Have you not heard what has happened？ Two famous
robbers are to be crucified； and with them another； called
Jesus of Nazareth； a man who has done many wonderful works
among the people； so that they love him greatly。 But the priests
and elders have said that he must die； because he gave himself
out to be the Son of God。 And Pilate has sent him to the cross
because he said that he was the ‘King of the Jews。'
How strangely these familiar words fell upon the tired
heart of Artaban！ They had led him for a lifetime over land
and sea。 And now they came to him mysteriously； like a
message of despair。 The King had arisen； but he had been
denied and cast out。 He was about to perish。 Perhaps he was
already dying。 Could it be the same who had been born in
Bethlehem thirty…three years ago； at whose birth the star had
appeared in heaven； and of whose coming the prophets had
spoken？
Artaban's heart beat unsteadily with that troubled；
doubtful apprehension which is the excitement of old age。 But
he said within himself： 〃The ways of God are stranger than
the thoughts of men； and it may be that I shall find the King；
at last； in the hands of his enemies； and shall come in time
to offer my pearl for his ransom before he dies。〃
So the old man followed the multitude with slow and
painful steps toward the Damascus gate of the city。 Just
beyond the entrance of the guardhouse a troop of Macedonian
soldiers came down the street； dragging a young girl with torn
dress and dishevelled hair。 As the Magian paused to look at
her with compassion； she broke suddenly from the hands of her
tormentors； and 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
Bethlehemthe 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 mindit was inevitable。 And does not the inevitable come
from God？
One thing only was sure to his divided heartto 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；
doubtless that was the best that was possible。 He had not
seen the revelation of 〃life everlasting； incorruptible and
immortal。〃 But he knew that even if he could live his earthly
life over again； it could not be otherwise than it had been。
One more lingering pulsation of the earthquake quivered
through the ground。 A heavy tile； shaken from the roof； fell and
struck the old man on the temple。 He lay breathless and pale；
with his gray head resting on the young girl's shoulder；