Crispus, jealous for the antiquity of his nation, was disposed to question Vashti’s statement. “Why, you are as skeptical as Apion. You have heard of Apion?” “No,” laughed Crispus. “Who was he?” “A grammarian of Alexandria, and the author of a work intended to show that we Jews are quite a recent nation in the history of the world, a libel that has so wrought upon the spirit of Josephus that he is writing a reply, whose title is to be ‘_Contra Apion_.’” “And you are aiding him in the work? Come, deny it not!” Vashti smiled assent. “I act as his amanuensis,” added she. A Hebrew maiden of seventeen versed in Grecian literature was a novelty to Crispus. Curious to know whether her learning was anything more than superficial, he ventured, with her own consent, to subject her to a catechism derived from the reminiscences of a two-years’ curriculum in the schools of Athens, but soon relinquished the task on finding her knowledge far more extensive than his own. “You have been questioning me,” said she with a smile, sweet yet grave, when he had finished. “Now may I claim a like privilege?” “In order to demonstrate my ignorance,” laughed Crispus. “Well, I’ll put myself under examination. Be not too hard with me.” Thus adjured, Vashti began. “Why does your Greek poet Bianor, in commenting upon the fable of Arion, who was cast into the sea by the sailors but saved by the dolphins, say it is meant to teach us that ‘_By man comes death, but by the Fish salvation_’?”[5] This, Crispus thought, was a very odd question. He had merely heard of Bianor as a poet living in the days of Tiberius; and that was the extent of his knowledge concerning him. As to the passage quoted by Vashti, it had no meaning for him. The words, however true of the fabled Arion, were scarcely applicable to mankind at large. Over Vashti’s face there passed a shade as of sadness, momentary only, but it did not escape Crispus’ quick eye. “I thought perhaps you might have comprehended,” said she. “Your story told to-night at the banquet, the story of ‘Great Pan,’ led me to hope that--that--no matter! I see now that I was wrong,” she added with a sigh. Saddened because she found him unable to explain an obscure line of a Greek poet! Why, what an odd maiden was this! And the curious part of it all was, she refused to enlighten him; and hence he could not but conclude that Vashti had some secret to which the poet’s words were the key. The conversation flowed on, and soon touched upon Jewish antiquity again. There were Jews, so Vashti averred, Josephus for example, who could carry back an authentic ancestry over a space of two thousand years. Crispus was wont to pride himself upon his ancient family, but what was its antiquity compared with such as these? “And can _you_ show so long a genealogy?” “My father Hyrcanus could.” Crispus thought this a somewhat odd reply. “But if _he_ could, so can _you_, seeing that you are his daughter.”