Indeed, this is a task
which I wish to postpone, since did I read I might believe and turn
Christian, to serve in due course as a night-light in Nero's gardens.
"I send you a present, praying that you will accept it. The emerald in
the ring is cut by my friend, the sculptor Glaucus. The pearls are fine
and have a history which I hope to tell you some day. Wear them always,
beloved Miriam, for my sake. I do not forget your words; nay, I ponder
them day and night. But at least you said you loved me, and in wearing
these trinkets you break no duty to the dead. Write to me, I pray you,
if you can find a messenger. Or, if you cannot write, think of me always
as I do of you. Oh, that we were back together in that happy village of
the Essenes, to whom, as to yourself, be all good fortune! Farewell.
"Your ever faithful friend and lover,
"Marcus."
Miriam finished her letter, kissed it, and hid it in her bosom. Then she
opened the packet and unlocked the ivory box within by a key that hung
to it. Out of the casket she took a roll of soft leather. This she undid
and uttered a little cry of joy, for there lay a necklace of the most
lovely pearls that she had ever seen. Nor was this all, for threaded
on the pearls was a ring, and cut upon its emerald bezel the head of
Marcus, and her own head taken from the likeness she had given him.
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