Indeed, he was very beautiful, and mocked at the weakly and made jest of them[10]. He loved himself only. In summer, when the winds were still, he liked to lie by the well in the priest’s orchard and look down at the marvel of his own face.
The Woodcutter and his wife often chided him, and said:
‘We did not leave you in the forest when you needed pity. Why are you so cruel to all who need pity?’
The old priest taught him the love of living creatures, and said:
‘The fly is your brother. Do it no harm. The wild birds that roam through the forest have their freedom. Do not snare them for your pleasure. God made the worms and the moles, and each has its place. Who are you to bring pain into God’s world? Even the cattle of the field praise Him.’
But the Star-Child did not heed their words, He listened and frowned and went back to his companions, and led them. His companions followed him, because he was fair and clever. He danced, and piped, and made music. And wherever the Star-Child led them they followed. Whatever the Star-Child bade them do, that did they.
When he pierced with a sharp reed the dim eyes of the mole, they laughed. When he cast stones at the leper they laughed also. In all things he ruled them, and they became cruel as he was.
One day through the village a poor beggar-woman passed by. Her garments were torn and ragged. Her feet were sick, and she was very tired and weary. She sat her down under a chestnut-tree to rest.
But when the Star-Child saw her, he said to his companions,
‘See! A foul beggar-woman under that fair and green-leaved tree. Come, let us drive her hence, for she is ugly.’
So he came near and threw stones at her, and mocked her. She looked at him with terror in her eyes. She did move her gaze from him. And when the Woodcutter saw all this, he ran up and rebuked the Star-Child, and said to him:
‘Surely you are very cruel and don’t know mercy. What evil did this poor woman do to you?’
The Star-Child grew red with anger, and stamped his foot upon the ground, and said,
‘Who are you to question me what I do? I am not your son.’
‘You speak truly,’ answered the Woodcutter, ‘yet did I show you pity when I found you in the forest?’
When the woman heard these words she cried, and fell into a swoon. The Woodcutter carried her to his own house, and his wife took care of her. When the poor woman rose up from the swoon, they set meat and drink before her. But she did not eat nor drink. She said to the Woodcutter,