“Your name was not brought forward in connection with any office.” “Not even by you?” Eleazar was silent. “Who was the first to enter Antonia? Not a Sanhedrist, I trow. Who promised to free Jerusalem from its siege, and did so? Not a Sanhedrist. Who was foremost in the attack on the retreating legions of Cestius? Not a Sanhedrist. And now do they pass me by, and distribute the rewards of victory among themselves? Verily, you have not done well, Eleazar, son of Ananias.” And Simon stalked wrathfully away. * * * * * As night drew on Crispus’ feelings became a curious mingling of pleasure and regret--pleasure at the thought of freedom, regret at having to part from Vashti, whose companionship had grown dear to him. In this hour of parting as they sat in the upper chamber by the light of a silver lamp, Vashti gently sought, as she had frequently sought before, to bring him over to her faith. Crispus shook his head. “Your creed is an impossible one,” said he. “A religion that tells us to love our enemies would be the ruin of states. Where would the Roman empire have been had we followed that doctrine? The world will never be ruled by love, but by _this_.” Taking his sword by the point he held it aloft. “Look!” said Vashti, gently. Crispus looked where she pointed, and lo! upon the chamber wall was a shadow cast by the light of the lamp, and that shadow had _the shape of a cross_! He who had not started at Simon’s sudden advent started now. He lowered the sword and sheathed it with a thoughtful air. Upon him who was so much disposed to catch at omens that little incident made more impression than all Vashti’s discourses. “The time of your departure is at hand,” she said sorrowfully. “You must kiss little Arad before you go, and say farewell to my mother.” When the sixth hour of the night had come, Crispus, disguised in Jewish garb, descended to the door of Miriam’s dwelling. Vashti was with him, and looked cautiously forth. Under the radiance of the full moon the street of Millo was half in silver light and half in ebon shadow. Out of the latter emerged the tall form of Simon leading two horses by the bridle. As Crispus beheld Vashti’s eyes eloquent with the sorrow of parting, he longed to take her within his arms and press her lips to his. He knew that this maiden loved him, as well as he knew that he loved her. But between them there lay the shadow of the unknown Athenaïs; and even should Crispus, invoking the law, repudiate his consort, he would be no better off as regards Vashti, whose Christian faith, dearer to her than earthly love, forbade her to marry one that had put away his wife. With the words “Farewell, sweet Vashti; may we soon meet again!” he mounted the horse, and, in company with Simon, rode slowly away, pausing for a moment at the street corner to wave with his hand a final adieu.