"Dion," replied she, with offended mien, "rise. You shall not assume such an attitude before a girl of the Jews--a mere child, whose gratefulness you have chanced to win by your kindness." "But why, Deborah, why this awful sacrifice you are venturing? Soon General Gorgias will be here. He is as cruel as an avalanche when his purpose moves, and he has sworn to leave not so much as a bone of a Jewish child outside the valley of Hinnom. That you are the daughter of Elkiah, chief of the Sanhedrin, is sufficient to excite his vengeance, even without the stories of your escapades as a spy, with which Menelaos' party are filling all ears. There is no hope for you here. Vanish again, I beseech you, as mysteriously as you will, for I cannot endure that you should become a sacrifice for me. I entreat it, Deborah. Go away again!" "Why," replied she, "that would make the matter worse, my good friend. It is known, or soon will be, that I am now here; but if I disappear again it will bring new accusation against you for being in some collusion with me." "I care nothing for such accusation. I would willingly die in the tower with the sweet thought that you were safe from insult and danger," cried the soldier passionately. "But, my dear Dion, I think there is need of neither of us playing tragedy. Maybe, as you say, I can vanish at will. If so, I shall always be safe, and then, when you are in danger, I can reappear, and they will say, 'Dion has guarded his prisoner faithfully!'" Deborah became quite merry with her pleasant conceit. Dion could not help catching some of the lighter manner of his companion. He took both her hands. "I pray you, do not vanish quite yet. Tell me what motive led you to do this desperate deed in my behalf? You will not love me?" He paused, gazing quizzically at her, but drew from her face not a flicker of such sentiment as certain past experience had led him to hope for. "Then, since you do not love me, your action was prompted only by humane motives, to save a wretched Greek from some inconvenience; and for this you risk your life? I cannot understand you." "Dion," replied Deborah, all mirth now gone from her manner, "Dion, I am a Jewess. Think not that our people's vows are only to save our land and nation. We serve these because these stand for Jehovah's law of righteousness and justice. Would it be right for me to leave you to suffer unjustly for my sake? I would be unfaithful to Jewry to so treat even a Greek. Your philosophy may teach you how to evade such questions, but our Jewish law is simple and plain. It commands us to 'do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with our God.' We need speak of no other sentiment." Her eyelashes did quiver a little as she said this. Then, looking him fairly in the face and returning the strong grasp of his hands, she added: "If my sense of duty were not sufficiently strong, my gratitude to my noble friend and protector would prompt me so to act, and so to speak.