The young man said, moving his gaze from the bag to her face:

— And never have I felt my craving for bread as I feel it now!... Truly, a man craves nothing, and delights in nothing, unless that thing has grown hard to come by!...

She looked up at him, and felt as though something in the glance of his eyes and the tone of his lips and the dignity of his face pierced through her own eyes and lips and face, then stole deep into her without her knowing or willing it; but she turned her gaze from him when her father's voice reached her, saying:

— Sit down, man!... Why do you stand there like a stranger?!...

— Thank you, uncle!... For a long while now I have not felt myself in a home... and among kin!...

He said this, then sat with them and they with him; they asked his name and he asked theirs, he talked with them and they with him — and behold, he, like them, had lost of his people those he had lost, and had been left alone in his exile, knowing no one and known by no one. And when this sitting together had gone on long, and that talking had gone on long, he said, as the sun was gathering in its light from the olive trees:

— What if I were to cast down my traveler's staff... and pitch, here, a tent of my own?!...

Her mother cried:

— A hundred welcomes!... Our house is your house!... And our freedom is your freedom!...

And her father added:

— To it this very hour!... Up...

And he rose upon the hour, that evening, and they rose with him; and there stood a small tent near the hut, keeping watch over it until morning... Then there were evenings and there were mornings; and tents were scattered along this bank, and huts strewn along that, and the slope teemed with old men and old women, with youths and girls, with little boys and little girls; a fire was kindled here and a fire put out there, and the wind blew heavy with smoke, laden with calling and praying and weeping, till it seemed that a semblance of life was breathing over a death that squatted upon the slope — where hunger was, and nakedness, and bare feet, and humiliation and disgrace — but for a measure of flour, a scoop of milk, a tin of meat, a handful of lentils or the like among grains, which they would watch for at the month's beginning or the month's end, when they would strike out through the ravines, tramp the winding paths among the orchards, then stream toward that quarter from which these

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Chen Yu

A beautiful hand that plays upon hearts...!

Like an immortal melody...

Chen Yu

Twelve new shades, among the loveliest and most magnificent of colors —

their allure, their sheen, pour enchantment over your

fingertips and clothe your hands in lavish beauty

Chen Yu: holds firmly — dries quickly — lasts long

CHEN YU

A creation of

Richard Hudnut

Chen Yu

lipstick

harmonizes with every shade