"I was the friend of Stephen, of whom ye spoke with love to-night. Saul consented unto his death in spite of my prayers for him, and before I could save him. When I rebuked Saul for his bloody zeal he denounced me as an apostate and set the Shoterim upon me so that I am obliged to flee for my life. For mine own wrongs I do not care, but the blood of Stephen cries out to me, the spectacle of his death rises to me in my dreams, and the infamy of it fills my hours with anguish. Ye say he was one of your saints, a martyr in the name of your Prophet, a teacher and a power in your church. Ye claim that ye loved him. Yet ye make timid preparation to flee before the oppressor who brought him low, and lift no hand to avenge his death! Are ye men? Have ye loves and hearts? Do ye miss him--" The pilgrim pressed his palms together and looked at the young man with passionate grief in his eyes. Marsyas turned his words to him. "Was ever his touch laid upon you, warm with life and tender with good will? Did ever his eyes bless you with their light? Can ye take it idly that his hands grasp the dust and the tomb hath hidden his smile?" The pilgrim covered his face with his hands. "These be things that philosophy can not return to me!" Marsyas drove on. "I can not pray Stephen back to my side; I can not hope till his voice returns to my ear; I can not flee till I find him! And by the holy and the pure who have gone down into the grave before him, I know that ye can not! Is it no matter to you that his memory is held in scorn? Are ye not stabbed with doubts that he died in vain--even ye who believe thus firmly that he was right? And I, being a Jew and an upholder of the Law, can I be content, knowing he was cut off in heresy?" The congregation began to move as he went on; men rose from sitting to their knees, as if prepared to spring to their feet. The preacher circled the room with a glance, but the eyes of the people were upon the young man. "Your Prophet and my Stephen! And ye fly! There are certain of you that are strong men, and Stephen was as delicate as a child. There is blood and temper and strength and numbers of you, but Stephen went forth alone--and died! Where were ye? What of yourselves, now? Are ye afraid of the weakling Pharisee?" There was a low murmur and men sprang to their feet, with flashing eyes and clenched hands. The pilgrim flung up his head and drew in his breath till it hissed over his bared teeth. Eleazar stood up by the young Essene and gazed straight at the preacher, as if holding himself in check until the leader declared himself. But the preacher put up his hands and hurried into the center of the building.