Often did the Woodcutter and his wife chide him, and say: “We did not deal with thee as thou dealest with those who are left desolate, and have none to succour them. Wherefore art thou so cruel to all who need pity?”
Often did the old priest send for him, and seek to teach him the love of living things, saying to him: “The fly is thy brother. Do it no harm. The wild birds that roam through the forest have their freedom. Snare them not for thy pleasure. God made the blindworm and the mole, and each has its place. Who art thou to bring pain into God’s world? Even the cattle of the field praise Him.”
But the Star-Child heeded not their words, but would frown and flout, and go back to his companions, and lead them. And his companions followed him, for he was fair, and fleet of foot, and could dance, and pipe, and make music. And wherever the Star-Child led them they followed, and whatever the Star-Child bade them do, that did they. And when he pierced with a sharp reed the dim eyes of the mole, they laughed, and when he cast stones at the leper they laughed also. And in all things he ruled them, and they became hard of heart even as he was.
Now there passed one day through the village a poor beggar-woman. Her garments were torn and ragged, and her feet were bleeding from the rough road on which she had travelled, and she was in very evil plight. And being weary she sat her down under a chestnut-tree to rest.
But when the Star-Child saw her, he said to his companions, “See! There sitteth a foul beggar-woman under that fair and green-leaved tree. Come, let us drive her hence, for she is ugly and ill-favoured.”
So he came near and threw stones at her, and mocked her, and she looked at him with terror in her eyes, nor did she move her gaze from him. And when the Woodcutter, who was cleaving logs in a haggard hard by, saw what the Star-Child was doing, he ran up and rebuked him, and said to him: “Surely thou art hard of heart and knowest not mercy, for what evil has this poor woman done to thee that thou shouldst treat her in this wise?”
And the Star-Child grew red with anger, and stamped his foot upon the ground, and said, “Who art thou to question me what I do? I am no son of thine to do thy bidding.”
“Thou speakest truly,” answered the Woodcutter, “yet did I show thee pity when I found thee in the forest.”
And when the woman heard these words she gave a loud cry, and fell into a swoon. And the Woodcutter carried her to his own house, and his wife had care of her, and when she rose up from the swoon into which she had fallen, they set meat and drink before her, and bade her have comfort.
But she would neither eat nor drink, but said to the Woodcutter, “Didst thou not say that the child was found in the forest? And was it not ten years from this day?”
And the Woodcutter answered, “Yea, it was in the forest that I found him, and it is ten years from this day.”
“And what signs didst thou find with him?” she cried. “Bare he not upon his neck a chain of amber? Was not round him a cloak of gold tissue broidered with stars?”
“Truly,” answered the Woodcutter, “it was even as thou sayest.” And he took the cloak and the amber chain from the chest where they lay, and showed them to her.
And when she saw them she wept for joy, and said, “He is my little son whom I lost in the forest. I pray thee send for him quickly, for in search of him have I wandered over the whole world.”
So the Woodcutter and his wife went out and called to the Star-Child, and said to him, “Go into the house, and there shalt thou find thy mother, who is waiting for thee.”
So he ran in, filled with wonder and great gladness. But when he saw her who was waiting there, he laughed scornfully and said, “Why, where is my mother? For I see none here but this vile beggar-woman.”
And the woman answered him, “I am thy mother.”
“Thou art mad to say so,” cried the Star-Child angrily. “I am no son of thine, for thou art a beggar, and ugly, and in rags. Therefore get thee hence, and let me see thy foul face no more.”
“Nay, but thou art indeed my little son, whom I bare in the forest,” she cried, and she fell on her knees, and held out her arms to him. “The robbers stole thee from me, and left thee to die,” she murmured, “but I recognised thee when I saw thee, and the signs also have I recognised, the cloak of golden tissue and the amber chain. Therefore I pray thee come with me, for over the whole world have I wandered in search of thee. Come with me, my son, for I have need of thy love.”
But the Star-Child stirred not from his place, but shut the doors of his heart against her, nor was there any sound heard save the sound of the woman
