“Call them not accursed, friend,” said Marcus, in an odd voice, “for you should do so least of all men. Nay, hear me out. It may be a prophecy of the Nazarenes, but it is also a prophecy of the Essenes, and I believe it, who watch the signs of the times. Now the elder told me this, that there will be a great uprising of the Jews against the strength of Cæsar, and that most of those who join in it shall perish. He even gave names, and among them was yours, friend Benoni. Therefore, because you have lent me money, although I am a Roman, I have come to Tyre to warn you to keep clear of rebellions and other tumults.” The old man listened quietly, but not as one who disbelieves. “All this may be so,” he said, “but if my name is written in that book of the dead, the angel of Jehovah has chosen me, and I cannot escape his sword. Moreover, I am aged, and”—here his eyes flashed—“it is a good end to die fighting one’s country’s enemies.” “How you Jews do love us to be sure!” said Marcus with a little laugh. “The nation that sends a Gessius Florus, or even an Albinus, to rule its alien subjects must needs be loved,” replied Benoni with bitter sarcasm. “But let us be done with politics lest we grow angry. It is strange, but a visitor has just left me who was brought up among these Essenes.” “Indeed,” said Marcus, staring vacantly into the sea. “He told me that a young and beautiful woman resides with them who is named the Queen of the Essenes. Did you chance to see her, my lord?” Instantly Marcus became very wide awake. “Oh, yes, I saw her; and what else did he tell you?” “He told me that this lady was both beautiful and learned.” “That is true,” said Marcus with enthusiasm. “To my mind, although she is small, I never saw one lovelier, nor do I know a sculptor who is her equal. If you will come with me to the ship I will open the case and show you the bust she made of me. But tell me, did this visitor of yours lack the forefinger on one hand—his right?” “He did.” “Then I suppose that he is named Caleb.” “Yes; but how do you know that?” “Because I cut off his forefinger,” said Marcus, “in a fair fight, and,” he added savagely, “he is a young rascal, as murderous as he is able, whose life I did ill to spare.” “Ah,” said Benoni, “it seems that I have still some discernment, for just so I judged him. Well, what more do you know of the lady?” “Something, since in a way I am affianced to her.” “Indeed! Well, this is strange, for so, as he told me, is Caleb.” “He told you that?” said Marcus springing from his chair. “Then he lies, and would that I had time to prove it on his body! She rejected him; I have it from Nehushta; also I know it in other ways.” “Then she did accept you, my lord Marcus?” “Not quite,” he replied sadly; “but that was only because I am not a Christian. She loves me all the same,” he added, recovering. “Upon that point there can be no doubt.” “Caleb seemed to doubt it,” suggested Benoni.