Zerubbabel raised his voice and uttered sharp words. “If you had flayed my body with thorns and stung it with scorpions, you would not hurt me so much as your words have done. When all the mockers ridiculed me, my bosom was filled with anger and scorn, and I felt strong in my opposition. But when you joined the mockery and added your voice to the laughter, then I became the most unhappy, the most wretched man under heaven. You have become a stranger to me, Sheshana; with your words you have dug an abyss between us, and when Zerubbabel has lost Sheshana, he has lost his life.” With terror in her eyes the maiden cried, “Oh, how can you speak like that?” As she looked at him with her horror-stricken countenance and her flaming cheeks, Zerubbabel’s heart was softened, and with a passionate impulse he rushed to her, clasping her to him with all his fire and tenderness. “My only one, my love,” he whispered, “do not desert Zerubbabel. Do not mock me. Believe in me. Believe that I have _not_ become demented and that I am _not_ a mere dreamer. Believe that I have been born to great deeds, and I will accomplish them. I will declare war against the scoffers and misleaders of the people and will root them out. I will teach my people to be proud, and will lead it to victory. Be you the spring from which I shall drink strength for my bones and power for my veins. Pour courage into me and cheer my weary soul. Tell me that I am right and they who scoff at me are stricken with blindness. Tell me that you were mistaken and that for only a moment were you alienated from your Zerubbabel.” But Sheshana wept, hiding her face in her hands, and murmured, “I cannot! I cannot!” With passion more intense than ever Zerubbabel spoke to her. “See, they wish to buy themselves free of danger with the body of Esther. They send her to risk her life, and themselves they try to save with fasting. And if Esther’s body avail not, they will have recourse to money, or the body of some other beautiful woman, or both these things together. Say, Sheshana, is this not despicable? Is it not base and cowardly? Everything within me cries out in revolt against it; does nothing cry out in you? Men—to send a woman’s body before them! Sheshana, I have no words to express how contemptible that is! Do you feel it, Sheshana? Do you not feel as if you had been soiled, debased, spat upon? Sheshana, see how my muscles stiffen,—do you see my strength? I feel that my arms are giant wings ready to bear my people across every abyss and peril. Why do they fear to take up arms? Victory or Death, but no purchasing our security! Men who hide behind a woman have no sense of honour, and shall my whole people consist of such men? Shall Zerubbabel’s people lack a sense of honour? Does not your soul revolt against it all, Sheshana?” But Sheshana lay quietly in his arms, speaking not a word. He clasped her still, looking passionately into her eyes and asking as before, “Tell me, Sheshana, tell me.”