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Then said the old man: “As I am now, so have I been these many hundred years. Thou hast heard tell of me,–canst thou not guess my name; canst thou not read my sorrow in my face and in my bosom? As thou art good and holy through thy faith in that symbol in yonder shrine, hearken to me, for I will tell thee of the wretch whom thou hast succored. Then, if it be thy will, give me thy curse and send me on my way.”

Much marvelled the Father Miguel at these words, and he deemed the old man to be mad; but he made no answer. And presently the old man, bowing his head upon his hands, had to say in this wise:–

“Upon a time,” he quoth, “I abided in the city of the Great King,–there was I born and there I abided. I was of good stature, and I asked favor of none. I was an artisan, and many came to my shop, and my cunning was sought of many,–for I was exceeding crafty in my trade; and so, therefore, speedily my pride begot an insolence that had respect to none at all. And once I heard a tumult in the street, as of the cries of men and boys commingled, and the clashing of arms and staves. Seeking to know the cause thereof, I saw that one was being driven to execution,–one that had said he was the Son of God and the King of the Jews, for which blasphemy and crime against our people he was to die upon the cross. Overcome by the weight of this cross, which he bore upon his shoulders, the victim tottered in the street and swayed this way and that, as though each moment he were like to fall, and he groaned in sore agony. Meanwhile about him pressed a multitude that with vast clamor railed at him and scoffed him and smote him, to whom he paid no heed; but in his agony his eyes were alway uplifted to heaven, and his lips moved in prayer for them that so shamefully entreated him. And as he went his way to Calvary, it fortuned that he fell and lay beneath the cross right at my very door, whereupon, turning his eyes upon me as I stood over against him, he begged me that for a little moment I should bear up the weight of the cross whilst that he wiped the sweat from off his brow. But I was filled with hatred, and I spurned him with my foot, and I said to him: ‘Move on, thou wretched criminal, move on. Pollute not my doorway with thy touch,–move on to death, I command thee!’ This was the answer I gave to him, but no succor at all. Then he spake to me once again, and he said: ‘Thou, too, shalt move on, O Jew! Thou shalt move on forever, but not to death!’ And with these words he bore up the cross again and went upon his way to Calvary.

“Then of a sudden,” quoth the old man, “a horror filled my breast, and a resistless terror possessed me. So was I accursed forevermore. A voice kept saying always to me: ‘Move on, O Jew! move on forever!’ From home, from kin, from country, from all I knew and loved I fled; nowhere could I tarry,–the nameless horror burned in my bosom, and I heard continually a voice crying unto me: ‘Move on, O Jew! move on forever!’ So, with the years, the centuries, the ages, I have fled before that cry and in that nameless horror; empires have risen and crumbled, races have been born and are extinct, mountains have been cast up and time hath levelled them,–still I do live and still I wander hither and thither upon the face of the earth, and am an accursed thing. The gift of tongues is mine,–all men I know, yet mankind knows me not. Death meets me face to face, and passes me by; the sea devours all other prey, but will not hide me in its depths; wild beasts flee from me, and pestilences turn their consuming breaths elsewhere. On and on and on I go,–not to a home, nor to my people, nor to my grave, but evermore into the tortures of an eternity of sorrow. And evermore I feel the nameless horror burn within, whilst evermore I see the pleading eyes of him that bore the cross, and evermore I hear his voice crying: ‘Move on, O Jew! move on forevermore!'”