It was not the gnawing pangs of hunger that distressed her so much as the knowledge that she had altogether lost her mother’s love. Miriam treated her with an unkindliness that seemed to increase with each succeeding day. She was forever reproaching Vashti as being a Christian and a lover of the Romans. “But I love you, too, dear mother, more than all the Christians, or would I have remained here with you, when I might have retired safely to Pella?” Her mother took no notice of this pertinent argument, but began to inveigh against Crispus, whose conspicuous valor during the siege had inspired the Jews with a hatred almost equal to that felt for Titus himself. “Why did you nurse him back to life? He is a serpent repaying our kindness by doing all the hurt he can to the holy city.” Not wishing to vex her mother, Vashti refrained from argument, and went with aching heart to survey their fast diminishing store of provisions. The slender stock of meal, figs, and dried grapes would last but a few days more, and then----? The two women contented themselves with a few mouthfuls a day in order that little Arad might have sufficient for his wants. He was now between five and six years of age, and was idolized at least by his sister, if not by his mother. The child could not help observing how little they ate. “It is all through the Romans,” answered his mother fiercely, adding, “say, ‘God curse the Romans!’” The little fellow repeated the words. “Now you say it, Vashti,” said he. But Vashti, believing that the Romans were God’s ministers, tearfully shook her head, and this produced a fresh outburst of wrath on the part of Miriam, who seemed to take an unholy pleasure in setting the child against Vashti, saying so many bitter things that Vashti withdrew weeping. At last came the time of starvation. For two days the women fasted, giving to Arad what remained of their store; and, as Miriam watched him eating, there was in her eyes a look that Vashti did not like to see, a look as if she were begrudging the child its food. On the third day he, too, had to fast. His pitiful questionings and sobbings gave additional pangs to Vashti’s own anguish. But where was she to look for relief? To solicit food from her friends and neighbors would but provoke them to mocking laughter, if indeed the power to laugh remained in them. If they had food, would they part with it, when such act would be but to hasten their own end? What was Arad to them? they would say. Had they not dying children of their own? Why prolong Arad’s sufferings? The quicker death came to him the better. Such were the answers Vashti would receive, as she very well knew.