Presently he sprang up. “It was no sin,” he said, “it was a righteous act. I offered her to the outraged majesty of Jehovah, as Abraham, our father, would have offered Isaac, but the curse of that false prophet is upon me and mine. That was the fault of Demas, the half-bred hound who crept into my kennel, and whom, because she loved him, I gave to her as husband. Thus did he repay me, the traitor, and I—I repaid him. Ay! But the sword fell upon two necks. He should have suffered, and he alone. Oh, Rachel, my lost daughter Rachel, forgive me, you whose bones lie there beneath the sea, forgive me! I cannot bear those eyes of yours. I am old, Rachel, I am old.” Thus Benoni muttered to himself, as he walked swiftly to and fro; then, worn out with his burst of solitary, dream-bred passion, he sank back upon the couch. As he sat thus, an Arab doorkeeper, gorgeously apparelled and armed with a great sword, appeared in the portico, and after looking carefully to see that his master was not asleep, made a low salaam. “What is it?” asked Benoni shortly. “Master, a young lord named Caleb wishes speech with you.” “Caleb? I know not the name,” replied Benoni. “Stay, it must be the son of Hilliel, whom the Roman governor”—and turning, he spat upon the ground—“has brought to his own again. I heard that he had come to take possession of the great house on the quay. Bring him hither.” The Arab saluted and went. Presently he returned and ushered in Caleb, now a noble-looking young man clad in fine raiment. Benoni bowed to him and prayed him to be seated. Caleb bowed in return, touching his forehead in Eastern fashion with his hand, from which, as his host noticed, the forefinger was missing. “I am your servant, sir,” said Benoni with grave courtesy. “Master, I am your slave,” answered Caleb. “I have been told that you knew my father; therefore, on this, my first visit to Tyre, I come to make my respects to you. I am the son of Hilliel, who perished many years ago in Jerusalem. You may have heard his story and mine.” “Yes,” answered Benoni scanning his visitor, “I knew Hilliel—a clever man, but one who fell into a trap at last, and I see that you are his son. Your face proves it; indeed, it might be Hilliel who stands before me.” “I am proud that you should say so,” answered Caleb, though already he guessed that between Benoni and his father no love had been lost. “You know,” he added, “that certain of our people seized my inheritance, which now has been restored to me—in part.” “By Gessius Florus the procurator, I think, who on this account, has cast many Jews—some of them innocent—into prison.” “Indeed! Is that so? Well, it was concerning this Florus that I came chiefly to ask your advice. The Roman has kept a full half of my property,” and Caleb sighed and looked indignant. “You are indeed fortunate that he has not kept it all.”