They rose from the low table just as the doorway darkened and a gigantic old man appeared on the threshold. His beard flowed like a river; he was large-boned, his arms firm, his breast as hairy as a ram’s. He held a crooked staff which was taller than he was and which he used, not to lean upon, but to beat others and keep the village in order.

“Welcome to our poor house, Father Melchizedek,” said both women, curtsying.

He entered, and a second old man appeared on the vacant threshold. This one was thin, with a long, horse-like head and no teeth. Flames darted out of his tiny eyes, and it was impossible to look at him for very long. The snake’s poison is supposed to be behind its eyes; behind this man’s eyes was fire, and behind the fire a twisted, perverse mind.

The women curtsied, welcomed him, and he too went inside. Behind him appeared the third old man, blind, stumpy, as fat as a pig. He held his staff before him: its eyes guided him and prevented him from stumbling. He was a good soul. He loved to joke, and when he judged the villagers, he did not have the heart to punish a single one of them. “I am not God,” he would say. “He who judges will be judged. Mend your arguments, my children, so that I don’t get into trouble in the next world!” Sometimes he paid the restitution out of his own pocket; sometimes he went to prison himself in order to save the offender. Some called him a fool, some a saint; and old Melchizedek could not bear the sight of him-but what could he do: he was dealing with a man descended from the priestly race of Aaron, and the most potent householder of the village.

“Martha,” said Melchizedek, whose staff reached the ceiling beams, “where is the stranger who has entered our village?”

Jesus rose from the corner by the chimney where he had remained, silently watching the fire.

“You?” said the old man, examining him from head to toe.

“Yes, me,” Jesus replied. “I come from Nazareth.”

“Galilean?” gummed the second old man, the venomous one. “Nothing good can come out of Nazareth. The Scriptures declare it.”

“Don’t scold him, Father Samuel,” interrupted the blind elder. “True, the Galileans are prattlers, idiots and provincial boors, but they’re honest. Our guest this evening is an honest man. I can tell from his voice.”

He turned toward Jesus. “Welcome, my child.”

“Are you a merchant?” asked old Melchizedek. “What do you sell?”

While the elders talked, the established men of the village-the reputable landowners-came in through the opened door. They had learned of the arrival of a stranger, had donned their finery and come to pass the time by welcoming him, seeing where he was from and what he had to say. They entered, and knelt on the ground behind the three elders.

“I don’t sell anything,” said Jesus. “I used to be a carpenter in my village, but I abandoned my work, left my mother’s house and dedicated myself to God.”

“You did well to escape from the world, my child,” said the blind man, “but take care, for now, poor fellow, you’ve got yourself mixed up with a bad devil, this God. How will you escape from him?” He burst into laughter.

Hearing this, old Melchizedek was ready to explode with malicious rage. But he remained silent.

“Monk?” the second elder hissed derisively. “You’re another one of those Levites, are you? A Zealot? False prophet?”

“No, no, Father,” Jesus replied, troubled, “no, no!”

“What then?”

The village ladies were now entering with all their jewelry in order to see the stranger and to be seen by him. Was he old, young, handsome? What did he sell? Or could he be a suitor for the hand of one of these beautiful but aging girls, Martha, or Mary? It was centuries since a man had embraced them: they would go insane, poor things… Let’s go and see!

They adorned themselves, came, and stood in a row behind the men.

“What, then?” the old viper asked once more.

Jesus suddenly felt a chill and held his hands in front of the fire. His clothes, still wet, steamed. For some time he was silent, thoughtful. This is a good moment to speak out, he was thinking, a good moment to reveal the word which the Lord confided to me and to awaken the God that sleeps within these men and women who destroy themselves in the pursuit of vain cares. They ask me what I sell. I shall answer: the kingdom of heaven, the salvation of the soul, life everlasting. Let them give the very clothes off their backs to buy this Great Pearl. He glanced rapidly around him, saw the faces in the lamplight and in the glow of the fire: rapacious, cunning, aged by petty, man-devouring cares, shriveled from fear. He pitied them and wanted to stand up and speak, but this night he was so very tired. It was many days since he had slept in the house of a human being or had rested his head on a pillow. Sleepy, he leaned against the smoky chimney wall and closed his eyes.

“He’s tired, my lords,” Mary interrupted, and she looked beseechingly at the old men. “Do not torment him.”

“Right!” growled Melchizedek. Leaning on his staff, he began to get up and leave. “You’re absolutely right, Mary. We’ve been talking to him as though we were his judges. We forget-” he turned to the second elder-“you forget, Father Samuel, that the angels frequently come down to earth dressed like paupers, with but one humble tunic and no staff, purse or shoes-just like this man. It is well, therefore, that we take heed and bear ourselves toward the stranger as we should toward an angel. That’s simply good sense.”

“That’s also simply asinine,” the blind elder snapped again, guffawing. “I say we should consider every man an angel, every man, yes, even old Samuel!”

Old Venom-Nose flew into a rage. He was ready to open his mouth, but on reflection changed his mind. The blind buzzard was rich; he might have need of him one day. Best play deaf-that too was simply good sense.

The sweet glow of the fire fell on Jesus’ hair, tired face and uncovered chest; threw sudden blue beams over his curly, raven-black beard.

“He’s delicious, even if poor,” said the ladies to one another, stealthily. “Did you notice his eyes? They’re the sweetest I’ve ever seen, sweeter even than my husband’s when he holds me in his arms.”

“I’ve never viewed any so wild,” interrupted another. “All fear and terror. You feel like leaving everything and taking to the hills.”

“And did you see Martha just eating him up with her eyes, dear? Poor thing, she’ll go crazy tonight.”

“But he eyed Mary on the sly,” another lady said. “The two sisters will have it out tonight, mark my words. I’m their neighbor; I’ll hear the yelling.”

“Let’s go,” commanded old Melchizedek. “It was a waste of time to take the trouble of coming. The visitor is sleepy. Get up, elders, let us go!” He began to push aside both men and women with his staff so that he could pass through.

But just as he reached the door hurried footsteps were heard in the yard and a pale man rushed inside and crumpled down in a heap in front of the fire, out of breath. The two terrified sisters fell upon him and hugged him.

“Brother,” they cried, “what has happened to you? Who is chasing you?”

Melchizedek stopped and touched the newcomer with his staff. “Lazarus, son of Manacheim,” he said, “if it’s bad news you bring, let the women leave and the men remain, so that we may hear it.”

“The king seized John the Baptist and cut off his head!” shouted Lazarus in a single breath.

He stood up, trembling. He was jaundiced, the color of soil, with flabby, gourd-like cheeks; and his faded green eyes glittered in front of the fire like those of a wild cat.

“Our evening hasn’t gone to waste after all,” the blind elder said contentedly. “In the time which elapsed from the morning, when we awoke, until now, when we are about to go to sleep, something at least has finally happened: the world has moved. Let us therefore sit ourselves down on the stools and listen. I like news, even if it’s bad.”