As he did so, one of the two who stood with Ebn Ezra moved towards the monastery door slowly.

It was a monk with a face which, even in this dim light, showed a deathly weariness.

The eyes looked straight before him, as though they saw nothing of the world, only a goal to make, an object to be accomplished.
The look of the face went to David's heart--the kinship of pain was theirs.
"Peace be to thee," David said gently, as the other passed him.
There was an instant's pause, and then the monk faced him with fingers uplifted.

"The grace of God be upon thee, David," he said, and his eyes, drawn back from the world where they had been exploring, met the other's keenly.

Then he wheeled and entered the monastery.
"The grace of God be upon thee, David!" How strange it sounded, this Christian blessing in response to his own Oriental greeting, out in this Eastern waste.