Tárogató, 1938-1939 (1. évfolyam, 1-10. szám)

1939-01-01 / 7-8. szám

14 TÁROGATÓ Worse and worse grew the weather, and denser and denser grew the throngs of strang­ers, more and more money was offered for shelter, until at last Rebekah utterly threw aside her benevolent purpose and rented the room regularly to the highest bidder each day. Now she began to understand her father’s passion for gold. Then came a stormy day when the rain descended, not in showers, not in streams, but in veritable blankets. In the roads travellers shivered in the chilly wind, trying to shelter themselves beside their beast or beneath the thinly leaved trees. Evening came early be­cause of the dense clouds, but darkness brought no cessation of the travellers, group after group arrived at Samuel’s gate and begged for him to take them in at any price. The rain stopped at last, but its end brought little comfort for everything and everyone was soaked. The camels and donkeys hung their weary heads and they were turned away from the place where even they evidently expected hospitality, and some of the women openly wept. Rebekah’s heart smote her somewhat, and she was almost resolved to give her room to the next mother who arrived with a little one—for there were many such; but almost before the resolve was formed, a man and woman arrived and demanded in no uncer­tain terms that they at least be permitted to enter the court for the night. Once inside, they began to offer gold for private quarters for it plainly did not suit them to be thus herded with common travellers. At last Sa­muel called to Rebekah, “Daughter” he said, “I promised not to take your little room but if you want money for it tonight, they will pay what you ask.” So Rebekah asked the highest price she had yet received for the room, and the man paid it gladly and ordered their luggage car­ried in. Almost before these two had disappeared, another couple arrived at the gate—a man with a wife some years younger than himself —a beautiful, delicate girl was drooped ex­hausted on the back of a donkey. “No”, said Samuel, “there is not a foot of room to offer you—I am sorry—but you must have known there would be crowds—I am sorry for the lady, your wife—but I can do nothing-you should have come earlier.” With­out meaning to, the girl spoke—“I do so want”—she gasped—“to lie down.” Samuel leaned forward—it was almost as if hearing the girl’s voice, he glimpsed for a moment, something far off and fragrant—his fat face was for a moment undecided—but only for a moment. “I am a business man—I have been paid in advance—there is no room in the inn.” Rebekah stood beside him—wishing, wish­ing that she still had her little room to offer. Why, the young wife was little older than she herself, and as she looked at her husband after Samuel had spoken, Rebekah saw that her eyes were full of tears. The man spoke again for he saw that his wife could not go farther. “Can you not let us stay some place?” “Well,” said Sam­uel, touched by the man’s distress. “The only place would be in the caves behind the inn, where we shelter the animals—it is at least dry and I can let you have some clean straw.” As Rebekah hurried about helping to pre­pare everything for the night she thought much of the young girl and wished again she had not sold her room for gold. When all was done she was too tired to read the scrip­tures and went at once to sleep only to be awakened by a shout from one of her bro­thers. “Father, open the gate!” She threw on her mantle and ran out to where the shep­herds were telling something breathlessly. “The sky was full of angels! They sang and they told us that a Babe was born in Beth­lehem tonight! The Son of God!” Then one of the older men in a quiet voice told the whole wonderful story, ending with the song of the angels—“Glory to God in the Highest—Peace on Earth—Good-will to Men.” But said Samuel—“Where will you find Him?” “We were told that we would find Him in a manger,” said the shepherds, “Where shall we go?” Suddenly Rebekah though of the young girl who had been sent to the caves—there were mangers in the caves—calling to the shep­herds she ran until she came to the entrance of the cave in which a torch was burning. Breathlessly she crept forward. There was a Babe!—a wonderful Babe!—The Babe that might have been born in her little room, the room that she had sold for gold, after one glance she turned with a heartbroken cry to flee where she might weep alone. “0, dear God, forgive me for being a self­ish, greedy girl. If only I had continued to lend my room to the poor! You have sent me a blessing—a rich blessing—and I have lost it.” In later years those who did not know Re­bekah wondered why she kept one immac­

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