At the end of the story, Lydia's eyes fell slowly, and the interest that had enlivened her face relaxed into pensiveness. She was oppressed and sorrowful, almost ready to be directed by this man of many sorrows. But he leaned toward her. "Henceforth, therefore," he said, "I am not a man of peace, but one burdened with rancor and vengeful intent. I go not into En-Gadi, but into the evil world to use the world's evil to work evil. I am despoiled and blighted and without hope. Is that the inheritance which thou wouldst leave to them who love thee?" She drew away from him, half alarmed. "I--I am not a Nazarene," she faltered. "Do not go to them, then!" he urged eagerly. "Do not listen to their teachings; for whosoever listens must die!" "I went yesterday for a different cause," she said finally, "but before, of interest." "But thou art a faithful daughter of Abraham; be not led of any cause. Remember yesterday!" "Yesterday?" she repeated quietly. "Why yesterday? Only the faith of the oppressed was different. We of Israel's faith in Alexandria know many of yesterday's like, and worse!" "Suffer, then, the sufferings of the righteous! Be not cut off for a folly!" She fell silent again, and smoothed the silk on her lap. "Justin Classicus told me of them," she began finally, "and their very difference from other philosophies, new or old, the simple history of their Prophet attracted me. I sought them out, and learned that an Egyptian merchant who traded in Syria had passed through Jerusalem at the time of the Nazarene Prophet's sojourn in the city, and had become converted to His teaching. He returned to Egypt and planted the seed of the sect in Rhacotis. And of power and attraction, he gathered unto him men of his like. Finally he carried his teaching into the lecture-rooms of the Library and all Alexandria heard of the Nazarenes. Reduced in its frenzy, his faith had a burning and unconsumed heart to it. Many searched and many accepted it. I went once--with my handmaiden--and heard his preaching. And I saw in it a remedy for the sick world." Marsyas looked away toward the Synagogue, glittering purely against the dark blue waters of the bay. He felt a recurrence of the old chill that possessed him, when he had failed to shake Stephen in his apostasy. But she went on.