Dawn broke in the east, and hunger turned him homeward. On the road near the village he passed a golden litter, also bound for Gath-Hepher, on whose curtains were woven in silver the little doves of Eryx. The litter was followed by several donkeys, laden with merchandise, and a number of servants in the livery of the Phœnicians. “There goes a rich man,” thought Jonah, “but I am happier than he. I will buy his litter and give it to Judith, because of the little silver doves on the curtains.” It was Hiram, a merchant of Tyre, on his way to visit Prince Ahab, with dyed silks from Sidon, sandalwood, and cloves. Jonah had no forebodings. Cold, wet, weary, but overborne by happiness, he went on home to his mother’s house for breakfast. VIII That morning Jonah said to his mother, “Mother, I am going to be married.” Deborah did not stop singing to herself as she sat mixing curds. But she looked at Jonah as though to say, “Are you preparing some new trouble for us both?” At last, since Jonah did not offer any further information, she remarked quietly: “What of your career?” “What of it?” replied Jonah. “I have been alone a long while; now I am going to take a wife.” Deborah went on stirring her curds. But she stopped singing. Presently she put down her wooden spoon and sat still, staring at her son. “You know,” she said gravely, “that I want you to be happy. But what are you doing? Your father also had a great deal of talent. He might have been a priest, but he preferred to marry me; and he died by being gored by a bull. Marriage is a serious thing, and nothing for a prophet.” “Do you think prophets are made of wood or stone?” cried Jonah irritably. “They also have feelings, like any one else.” Deborah nodded her head. “I suppose so,” she said. “Still, how much better it would be if you could find something else to do with those feelings.” “Well, I can’t,” said Jonah. And he relapsed into gloomy silence. His mother began to stir her curds again. “If that is the case,” she said at last, “you had better tell me all about it, and we will see what can be done.” Since Jonah did not reply, she added, “I suppose it is some woman of Bethel, or perhaps a girl from the desert.” “It is Judith,” said Jonah simply, “Ahab’s niece.” The spoon fell with a clatter into the bowl. “Ak,” cried Deborah. And she gazed at her son in consternation. “Have you gone out of your mind?” she exclaimed at last. “Do you imagine for a single moment such a thing would be allowed? Who are you, Jonah, the grandson of King David? Or are you perhaps a nephew of King Hiram of Tyre? You must be mad, my son.” And she added, shaking her head, “It is always something difficult or impossible with you.”