"
"It is true," said Miriam, brightening; "that is, if I may believe
Marcus and my old master."
"Also," continued Nehushta, "I have still almost all the gold that the
Phoenician Amram gave us when I fled with your mother, and added to it
that which I took from the strong box of the captain of the galley on
the night when you were born. So have no fear, we shall not want; nor
indeed would the Essenes suffer such a thing. Now, child, you are weary;
go to rest and dream that you have your lover back again."
It was with a heavy heart that Caleb, defeated and shamed, shook the
dust of the village of the Essenes off his feet. At dawn on the morning
after the night that he had fought the duel with Marcus, he also might
have been seen, a staff in his bandaged hand and a bag of provisions
over his shoulder, standing upon the little ridge and gazing towards the
house which sheltered Miriam. In love and war things had gone ill with
him, so ill that at the thought of his discomfiture he ground his teeth.
Miriam cared nothing for him; Marcus had defeated him at the first
encounter and given him his life; while, worst of all, these two
from whom he had endured so much loved each other. Few, perhaps, have
suffered more sharply than he suffered in that hour; for what agonies
are there like those of disappointed love and the shame of defeat when
endured in youth? With time most men grow accustomed to disaster and
rebuff.
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