To all this Ben Yusef responded with lofty and generous emotion. He eloquently told the story of ancient Israel; of the grand historic triumphs of Jehovah among his chosen people; of the great patriarchs; of the birth of his nation when, under Moses, the people had fled from Egypt; of the valor of the Judges; of the glory of the Kings; of the sins of the people in admitting Baalitish customs; of the Lord's heavy curse in selling the nation into captivity to Babylon; and of the return under permission of the Persians, the new masters of the world. He spoke, too, with prophetic rapture of the day that was sure to come, when a new King, greater than Solomon, the Lord's own gift to his people, would spread the nation from the Euphrates to the Great Sea; or, as their psalm had it, "from the river to the ends of the earth." The venerable man's face shone as he enlarged even that vision, and spoke of peace and righteousness filling all lands--even the fields breaking forth into singing. The substance of this story of the Jews' land and people Hiram had heard before; but the old man's ardor impressed it with such vividness that the listener seemed to see the unrolling scroll of history merging into prophecy, and could not repress a feeling of the enthusiasm which the speaker conveyed with his words, his gestures, and his looks. Two days passed. Hiram had recovered from the weakness, which came more from the shock of his emotions than from actual bruises. Ben Yusef read the thoughts of his guest as he would now and then suddenly start at some unusual sound, or hide within the inner room of the tent at the approach of any neighbor. His observant host guessed that the patient would be freer of heart if the day could be spent away from the possibility of meeting with men.