Then he answered, "Caleb, the son of Hilliel, who wishes a word with
you."
"Ah!" said Marcus, "the very man, and, as usual, unless the light
deceives me, in an evil humour. Well, Caleb the son of Hilliel, what is
your business with me?"
"One of life and death, Marcus the son of Emilius," he answered, in such
a tone that the Roman drew his sword and stood watching him.
"Be plain and brief, young man," he said.
"I will be both plain and brief. I love that lady from whom you have
just parted, and you also love, or pretend to love, her. Nay, deny it
not; I have seen all, even to your kisses. Well, she cannot belong to
both of us, and I intend that in some future day she shall belong to
me if arm and eye do not fail me now. Therefore one of us must die
to-night."
Marcus stepped back, overcome not with fear, but with astonishment.
"Insolent," he said, "you lie! There were no kisses, and our talk was of
your neck, that I gave to her because she asked it, which is forfeit for
the murder of the Jew."
"Indeed," sneered Caleb. "Now, who would have thought that the noble
Captain Marcus would shelter thus behind a woman's robe? For the rest,
my life is my own and no other's to give or to receive. Guard yourself,
Roman, since I would kill you in fair fight.
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