David De Forest Burrell

“ There is no judge here but thy God. Thou art afraid to meet the Christ-child when thou comest to judgment; that is why thou hast no joy in this Christmas-tide. Clear conscience doth make glad heart. Get thee back and restore what thou hast stolen!”
His eyes sought those of him of the melancholy countenance, but the man would not look up. Nevertheless the hermit addressed him, knowing that he heard.
[16]
“And thou, Sir Melancholy, methinks I know thy sorrow. Thou dost think thyself disillusioned. Sorrow has come thy way, and loneliness. Thy friends have proven no friends at all. ”

“ The man paused to get his breath, and answered, “Thou art set on high indeed, holy father. [9] ’Twere more friendly to set thy cave by the roadside below.”
“Make thy complaint to God who made the cave, thou unmannerly rascal!” the knight interrupted, jumping to his feet. “By thy costume thou art a beggar. Go thou and beg of richer men.”
“Peace, peace!” said the hermit. “All men are beggars at my door—and all are guests—and all are welcome.”
“Then thou shalt have a full table for thy Christmas dried peas, father, for yonder come more of thy guests.” ”

“ Thou dost not know me; thou canst not explain one of these dried peas, nor the way it grew, nor the sunlight that dried it; and yet thou dost eat my dried peas gladly! Have I hit thee? ‘Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of heaven as a——’”
He paused for a moment. The philosopher’s eyes had fallen; his [15] sneer was gone; he had not a word to say. The hermit turned to the thief, who sat next in the circle, and shot his next words at him.
“And thou, I know thine ailment, and why thou hast no Christmas joy in thy feast! ”

“ Toward twilight they heard the footsteps of the soldier, and his bronzed face appeared at the head of the path. He halted for a moment, surveying the scene. They were on their feet, girding themselves for the descent. ”

“ With bowed head they waited until the brief prayer was done, then set to as hungry men, one and all.
“Tough, but grateful to an empty stomach, is thy goat’s meat,” said the man of the broad brow. “But tell me, Father Hermit, thou didst return thanks for dried meat and peas: dost in very truth regard this mean repast as a Christmas feast?”
“That do I!” returned the hermit vigorously.
“That do I not!” said the other in a sneer half hidden in his [12] beard, “no more do these my fellow-guests, I warrant you. Tell me, friend knight, hast any thought of Christmas in thy mind?” ”