Or should he
escape that dagger, one or other of them would raise the Essenes on
him, and he would be given over to justice. He wished to slay, not to be
slain. It would be sweet to kill the Roman, but if he himself were laid
dead across his body, leaving Miriam alive to pass to some other man,
what would he be advantaged? Presently they must cease from their
endearments; presently his enemy would return as he had come, and then
he might find his chance. He would wait, he would wait.
Look, they had parted; Miriam was gliding back to the house, and Marcus
came towards him, walking like a man in his sleep. Only Nehushta
stood where she was, her eyes fixed upon the ground as though she were
reasoning with herself. Still like a man in a dream, Marcus passed him
within touch of his outstretched hand. Caleb followed. Marcus opened the
door, went out of it, and pulled it to behind him. Caleb caught it
in his hand, slipped through and closed it. A few paces down the
wall--eight or ten perhaps--was another door, by which Marcus entered
the garden of the guest-house. As he turned to shut this, Caleb pushed
in after him, and they were face to face.
"Who are you?" asked the Roman, springing back.
Caleb, who by now was cool enough, closed the door and shot the bolt.
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