“Umph,” he answered, “a strange couple—a dove and a raven. Well, I am glad that you did not catch his temper, or you would be more dangerous even than you are. Now, what do you want me to do?” “I want you to spare Caleb. You, you, you—need not believe those witnesses.” “To think of it!” said Marcus, in mock horror. “To think that one whom I thought so good can prove so immoral. Do you then wish to tempt me from my duty?” “Yes, I suppose so. At least the peasants round here are great liars.” “Lady,” said Marcus, with stern conviction, “Caleb has improved upon his opportunities as a playmate; he has been making love to you. I thought so from the first.” “Oh,” she answered, “how can you know that? Besides, he promised that he would never do it again.” “How can I know that? Why, because Caleb would have been a bigger fool than I take him for if he had not. And if it rested with me, certainly he never would do it again. Now be honest with me, if a woman can on such a matter, and tell me true: are you in love with this Caleb?” “I—I? In love with Caleb? Of course not. If you do not believe me, ask Nehushta.” “Thank you, I will be content with your own reply. You deny that you are in love with him, and I incline to believe you; but, on the other hand, I remember that you would naturally say this, since you might think that any other answer would prejudice the cause of Caleb with me.” “With you! What can it matter to you, sir, whether or no I am in love with Caleb, who, to tell you the truth, frightens me?” “And that, I suppose, is why you plead so hard for him?” “No,” she answered with a sudden sternness, “I plead hard for him as in like case I would plead hard for you—because he has been my friend, and if he did this deed he was provoked to it.” “Well spoken,” said Marcus, gazing at her steadily. Indeed, she was worth looking at as she stood there before him, her hands clasped, her breast heaving, her sweet, pale face flushed with emotion and her lovely eyes aswim with tears. Of a sudden as he gazed Marcus lost control of himself. Passion for this maiden and bitter jealousy of Caleb arose like twin giants in his heart and possessed him. “You say you are not in love with Caleb,” he said. “Well, kiss me and I will believe you.” “How could such a thing prove my words?” she asked indignantly. “I do not know and I do not care. Kiss me once and I will believe further that the peasants of these parts are all liars. I feel myself beginning to believe it.” “And if I will not?” “Then I am afraid I must refer the matter to a competent tribunal at Jerusalem.” “Nehushta, Nehushta, you have heard. What shall I do?” “What shall you do?” said Nehushta drily. “Well, if you like to give the noble Marcus a kiss, I shall not blame you overmuch or tell on you. But if you do not wish it, then I think you would be a fool to put yourself to shame to save Caleb.”