In Miller's A Canticle for Leibowitz, at the end of the Fiat Lux section, Benjamin, the seemingly immortal Jewish hermit, interrupts Thon Thaddeo's farewell dinner.
As I recall, he (Benjamin) gets very excited, grabs Thon Thaddeo's arm, and looks searchingly at him. However, this quickly turns to disappointment, and he turns to the assembled monks and says something to the effect of "It's not him" or "he is not the one".
He came close to the lectern, paused. His eyes twitched over the startled speaker. His mouth quivered. He smiled. He reached out one trembling hand toward the scholar. The thon drew back with a snort of revulsion.
The hermit was agile. He vaulted to the dais, dodged the lectern, and seized the scholar's arm.
Benjamin kneaded the arm while he stared hopefully into the scholar's eyes.
His face clouded. The glow died. He dropped the arm. A great keening sigh came from the dry old lungs as hope vanished. The eternally knowing smirk of the Old Jew of the Mountain returned to his face. He turned to the community, spread his hands, shrugged eloquently.
"It's still not Him," he told them sourly, then hobbled away.
Who was he looking for, and why did he think Thon Thaddeo may have been him? Why did he decide Thon Thaddeo wasn't, after all?