He reached it, but did not break it from its stem; he only stroked it with his soft fingers.
And when the child fell asleep in the flowers, his mother kneeled before him and looked at him.

And she gazed and gazed at him, and could not turn her face from him.

Then she bent down and took one little plump, soft hand and shut it into hers so that only the finger-tips could be seen, and she lifted them to her mouth and kissed them, and could not cease kissing the white, childish hands, the tears running down her cheeks the while.

And with her large dark eyes she looked out into the empty air--afraid of pursuers.
Joseph walked up and down near at hand between the trees and shrubs, but always kept mother and child in view.

He was gathering dates for their further travels.
And now new faces rise before me as they wander farther into the barren desert, swept by the simoon, parched by the rays of the sun.