From the garden arose the sound of voices; shadows moved among the trees. Aaron went by with a village girl, his hands stuffed with cakes. He offered them to her to nibble at, and kissed her mouth full of crumbs. She accepted his caresses with pleasure, but without passion. “What a thing you are,” she cried. “There’s your brother; he behaves himself, at least.” “He is a noodle,” said Aaron; “most of him is still in the desert. Who is that with him? My goodness....” They ran away, linked in laughter. Jonah looked after them, but he did not see them. The desert was in his heart, wide, starry, still; all the beauty in the world trembled at the moment’s edge. If it made itself known ... would the heart break with it? “This is too beautiful,” he wanted to cry; “wait, you are hurting me.” In another part of the garden Deborah said to Sarah, Judith’s nurse, “How charming your Judith is. She is not spoilt like so many of the young girls to-day. And when you consider her wealth, that makes it all the more remarkable.” “Yes,” said Sarah with satisfaction, “she knows nothing of life. She is a pure lily.” She added, “I have brought her up myself.” Deborah nodded her head. “Children cannot be brought up too strictly,” she said. “That is what is responsible for the success of my son Jonah.” And she moved away, smiling at her guests. Sarah gazed after her with pursed lips. “Indeed,” she said to herself. “Well, that is one thing to call it, of course.” Jonah was not thinking about being a prophet. His heart beat heavily; he felt as though he were all eyes, staring blindly into the night. The sweet, heavy scent of lilies struck him like a wind. He felt terrified of what he was about to say, of what he felt obliged to ask. But there was no help for it; the very shadows would begin to murmur if he were silent longer. “Judith, do you love me?” “Yes, Jonah.” Astonished, they gazed at each other without speaking. Then, slowly, their dark heads bent together. At that moment Uncle David, hurrying through the garden, caught sight of them under the tree. “Well,” he cried briskly, “there you are. Come, my son; the ox is about to be divided.” Jonah had only time to whisper, “Wait here for me, Judith.” Then he went, in a daze, to make the sacrifice. He heard but little of what was going on around him, the gay shouts, the pious wailing, but the sudden hush as he consigned the holy portions to the flames broke on him like a light. “Wait,” he said to himself; “something has happened.” And suddenly he began to feel very gay. “Why,” he thought, looking around at the familiar faces, “what are all these people so happy about? They do not know what has happened. They have no reason to be happy, as I have. “I ought at least to be happier than they are.” Seizing a cup of wine, he threw the contents on the blazing altar. “For You, too, God,” he cried recklessly; “enjoy Yourself.”