color, and little poppies and daisies and ferns and yellow shrubs and emerald grasses and rosy vines. Then, as the sky awoke with morning the tumbled wall of rock stood against ardent blueness and scarlet streaks, and birds alighted on stones in the pool to drink and bathe themselves.
Aside from the sound of the falling water and the birdsong there was no other sound. It was an enchanted spot, and Saul, alone in all the world, knew of it. The young Saul forgot his first morning prayers to gaze upon such beauty with wonder and delight. He took off his sandals and stepped into the pool near the edge, and the citron-colored water was icy cold but refreshing to his dusty feet. He lifted the water in his hands to drink and bathe his face, and he saw small brilliant fish in the pond now, and saw that the pond wandered away into many little brooks and freshets on the earth, reviving the hot soil.
Many times that summer and throughout the year he came to that place, and never was it the same, but as changeful as a prism, and never did it fail to give him pleasure and peace. It was his own no matter who owned it. In the early evenings, walking home from school, he would come here also, and study his books against the background of rushing water and falling birds and murmurous trees, and then he would remove tunic and sandals and swim in the pond or stand under the argent spray of the cataract just before it plunged into ripples and small waves of light and tinted liquid.
In time, it became a hallowed place to him, where he could not only study but could pray with renewed ardor and understanding. The months passed, and he saw no other human being near, though sometimes at a distance he could hear the faint ringing of cowbells in the evening or the far songs of slaves working in the fields beyond. Occasionally a small wild animal or a fawn or a little lamb would come shyly here to drink, staring at him with innocent eyes, and then leaving as silently as they had come.
And so he arrived at his precious sanctuary this morning, earlier than customary, and the rocks were still gray from the night and the water had a more tumultuous sound in the absolute silence. It was very cool here, almost chill, and the cataract appeared to be speaking to itself and to the pond into which it fell. Nothing had color as yet. The earth exhaled a cold but vibrant life of spring, carnal and pure and demanding. Slowly, moment by moment, as Saul sat on a dry rock near the pond and waited to watch his wall of rock turn to fiery gold, the sky turned opaline and the trees and birds awoke. Now the flowers burst into tints and hues like emerging rainbows on the land, and there was a smell of fecund ferns and almond blossoms.
Saul, delighting afresh in all this wonder and beauty of the senses, sat very still, all ears and eyes. Then he heard a slight rustle and the sound of disturbed gravel. He looked across the pond, startled. A young girl had appeared at the edge of the pond, and she did not see him. She was, perhaps, one or two years older than himself, and she was very beautiful and slender, and Jew though he was Saul suddenly thought of a dryad, or a nymph emerging from a tree. Her chiton was of white linen, coarse and spare and bound with a ribbon below young breasts, and her feet were bare and pale and so was her throat and her arms, as pale as moonlight on the snow of mountains. Her hair was long and curling and dark as night, springing about a child’s face of soft amber and rose, and her eyes, he saw, in that clarified illumination of early morning, were huge and black, and her mouth resembled a new poppy.
He guessed at once, from her garment and her bare feet and her timid movements, that she was a slave girl from some house he had never seen nearby, for she cast furtive glances over her shoulder as she lifted her chiton and stepped into the still water. She lifted the cloth high and Saul caught a flash of round firm thighs, as pale and lustrous as
Aside from the sound of the falling water and the birdsong there was no other sound. It was an enchanted spot, and Saul, alone in all the world, knew of it. The young Saul forgot his first morning prayers to gaze upon such beauty with wonder and delight. He took off his sandals and stepped into the pool near the edge, and the citron-colored water was icy cold but refreshing to his dusty feet. He lifted the water in his hands to drink and bathe his face, and he saw small brilliant fish in the pond now, and saw that the pond wandered away into many little brooks and freshets on the earth, reviving the hot soil.
Many times that summer and throughout the year he came to that place, and never was it the same, but as changeful as a prism, and never did it fail to give him pleasure and peace. It was his own no matter who owned it. In the early evenings, walking home from school, he would come here also, and study his books against the background of rushing water and falling birds and murmurous trees, and then he would remove tunic and sandals and swim in the pond or stand under the argent spray of the cataract just before it plunged into ripples and small waves of light and tinted liquid.
In time, it became a hallowed place to him, where he could not only study but could pray with renewed ardor and understanding. The months passed, and he saw no other human being near, though sometimes at a distance he could hear the faint ringing of cowbells in the evening or the far songs of slaves working in the fields beyond. Occasionally a small wild animal or a fawn or a little lamb would come shyly here to drink, staring at him with innocent eyes, and then leaving as silently as they had come.
And so he arrived at his precious sanctuary this morning, earlier than customary, and the rocks were still gray from the night and the water had a more tumultuous sound in the absolute silence. It was very cool here, almost chill, and the cataract appeared to be speaking to itself and to the pond into which it fell. Nothing had color as yet. The earth exhaled a cold but vibrant life of spring, carnal and pure and demanding. Slowly, moment by moment, as Saul sat on a dry rock near the pond and waited to watch his wall of rock turn to fiery gold, the sky turned opaline and the trees and birds awoke. Now the flowers burst into tints and hues like emerging rainbows on the land, and there was a smell of fecund ferns and almond blossoms.
Saul, delighting afresh in all this wonder and beauty of the senses, sat very still, all ears and eyes. Then he heard a slight rustle and the sound of disturbed gravel. He looked across the pond, startled. A young girl had appeared at the edge of the pond, and she did not see him. She was, perhaps, one or two years older than himself, and she was very beautiful and slender, and Jew though he was Saul suddenly thought of a dryad, or a nymph emerging from a tree. Her chiton was of white linen, coarse and spare and bound with a ribbon below young breasts, and her feet were bare and pale and so was her throat and her arms, as pale as moonlight on the snow of mountains. Her hair was long and curling and dark as night, springing about a child’s face of soft amber and rose, and her eyes, he saw, in that clarified illumination of early morning, were huge and black, and her mouth resembled a new poppy.
He guessed at once, from her garment and her bare feet and her timid movements, that she was a slave girl from some house he had never seen nearby, for she cast furtive glances over her shoulder as she lifted her chiton and stepped into the still water. She lifted the cloth high and Saul caught a flash of round firm thighs, as pale and lustrous as
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