That night, however, the High Priest could not fall asleep. The small quantity of wine that he had permitted himself to drink at the table and the excitement kept sleep away from him. A confusion of human figures and dwellings and streets passed before his eyes; his ears buzzed with the endless hum of voices and instruments. But soon, from all the figures emerged that of Athaliah, and he could hear distinctly what she said and what Jason replied. At first it came to him unawares, like a dim remembrance, a slight impression. At once, however, the sight and the voice grew clear to him, and he became uneasy. He scowled angrily, as if trying to banish form and voice, and soon he began to toss from side to side. In vain! Athaliah stood before him, with her eyes that beamed with the sun transfixing him with her penetrating glance. He experienced a sensation that had come to his body many a time during his life,—one that he always feared as much as deadly sin, trying to drive it from him by his strong will, long prayers and severe fasting. His being cried within him: he, he the octogenarian! How does he come to this? He raged against himself and thought of himself with scorn. Eighty years old and a High Priest! He directed his thoughts to God; his lips began to whisper a prayer. Yet the great crowds continued to pass before his eyes, and from the multitude, clear and well-defined, there stood out Jason’s sweetheart, the wonderfully beautiful Athaliah. Impossible to drive her from his thoughts! Impossible! Suddenly Jason’s words caused his blood to boil. A curse upon the wretch’s mouth! What had he had of all his long life, his beauty and his strength! He had devoted these to God! God had given them to him and he was God’s debtor, and he had paid back God like an honest man. His life was God’s, and he lived for God. Whoever lived otherwise was a wicked man, a sinner against God, a debtor that evades his debts. These thoughts made him strong. It was as if his muscles had become iron and his veins, steel. But despite everything, Athaliah’s image did not disappear. She stood before him in all her beauty, with her radiant eyes, and that glance which penetrated into his bones and his very brain. He looked at her with ire and scorn; he even spat in disgust. All this was of no avail to banish the vision. He lay calm, free of thoughts, and pretending to see nothing. His scorn of the feminine form knew no bounds. Soon, however, he arose and lighted a candle. The light must surely banish the evil vision. Seated on the side of the bed, his bare feet resting on the cold earth, he began to murmur a prayer. He was angry, utterly broken in body and soul. How came this to him, the aged man? Woe, woe, he had not lived righteously after all. The bodily, the fleshly, the sinful, still ruled over him.