Some, however, are said to
have escaped, and, like yourselves, lie in hiding."
Nehushta glanced at her mistress, now fast asleep, her pale face resting
on her arm.
"The world is hard--for Christians," she said.
"Friend, it is hard for all, as, were I to tell you my own story, even
you would admit," and he sighed. "At least you Christians believe in
something beyond," he went on; "for you death is but a bridge leading to
a glorious city, and I trust that you may be right. Is not your mistress
delicate?"
Nehushta nodded.
"She was never very strong, and sorrow has done its work with her. They
killed her husband at Berytus yonder, and--her trouble is very near."
"Yes, yes, I heard that story, also that his blood is on the hands
of her own father, Benoni. Ah! who is so cruel as a bigot Jew? Not
we Phoenicians even, of whom they say such evil. Once I had a
daughter"--here his hard face softened--"but let be, let be! Look you,
the risk is great, but what I can do I will do to save her, and you
also, friend, since, Libyan or no, you are a faithful woman. Nay, do not
doubt me. I have given my word, and if I break it willingly, then may I
perish and be devoured of dogs. My ship is small and undecked.
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