Pearl-Maiden: A Tale of the Fall of Jerusalem Page 9

  CHAPTER IX

  THE JUSTICE OF FLORUS

  On the following morning, when the roll of the neophytes of the Esseneswas called, Caleb did not appear. Nor did he answer to his name on thenext day, or indeed ever again. None knew what had become of him untila while after a letter was received addressed to the Curators of theCourt, in which he announced that, finding he had no vocation for anEssenic career, he had taken refuge with friends of his late father, insome place not stated. There, so far as the Essenes were concerned, thematter ended. Indeed, as the peasant who was concealed in the gully whenthe Jew was murdered had talked of what he had witnessed, even the mostsimple-minded of the Essenes could suggest a reason for this suddendeparture. Nor did they altogether regret it, inasmuch as in many waysCaleb had proved himself but an unsatisfactory disciple, and alreadythey were discussing the expediency of rejecting him from the fellowshipof their peaceful order. Had they known that when he vanished he leftbehind him a drawn sword and one of his forefingers, their opinion onthis point might have been strengthened. But this they did not know,although Miriam knew it through Nehushta.

  A week went by, during which time Miriam and Marcus did not meet, as nofurther sittings were arranged for the completion of the bust. In fact,they were not needful, since she could work from the clay model, whichshe did, till, labouring at it continually, the marble was done and evenpolished. One morning as the artist was putting the last touches to herlabours, the door of the workshop was darkened and she looked up tosee Marcus, who, except for his helmet, was clad in full mail as thoughabout to start upon a journey. As it chanced, Miriam was alone in theplace, Nehushta having gone to attend to household affairs. Thus for thefirst time they met with no other eyes to watch them.

  At the sight of him she coloured, letting the cloth fall from her handwhich remained about the neck of the marble.

  "I ask your pardon, Lady Miriam," said Marcus, bowing gravely, "forbreaking in thus upon your privacy; but time presses with me so that Ilacked any to give notice to your guardians of my visit."

  "Are you leaving us?" she faltered.

  "Yes, I am leaving you."

  Miriam turned aside and picked up the cloth, then answered, "Well, thework is done, or will be in a few minutes; so if you think it worth thetrouble, take it."

  "That is my intention. The price I will settle with your uncles."

  She nodded. "Yes, yes, but if you will permit me, I should like to packit myself, so that it comes to no harm upon the journey. Also with yourleave I will retain the model, which by right belongs to you. I am notpleased with this marble; I wish to make another."

  "The marble is perfect; but keep the model if you will. I am very gladthat you should keep it."

  She glanced at him, a question in her eyes, then looked away.

  "When do you go?" she asked.

  "Three hours after noon. My task is finished, my report--which is tothe effect that the Essenes are a most worthy and harmless people whodeserve to be encouraged, not molested--is written. Also I am calledhence in haste by a messenger who reached me from Jerusalem an hour ago.Would you like to know why?"

  "If it pleases you to tell me, yes."

  "I think that I told you of my uncle Caius, who was pro-consul underthe late emperor for the richest province of Spain, and--made use of hisopportunities."

  "Yes."

  "Well, the old man has been smitten with a mortal disease. For aught Iknow he may be already dead, although the physicians seemed to thinkhe would live for another ten months, or perhaps a year. Being in thiscase, suddenly he has grown fond of his relations, or rather relation,for I am the only one, and expressed a desire to see me, to whom formany years he has never given a single penny. He has even announced hisintention--by letter--of making me his heir 'should he find me worthy,'which, to succeed Caius, whatever my faults, indeed I am not, since ofall men, as I have told him in past days, I hold him the worst. Still,he has forwarded a sum of money to enable me to journey to him in haste,and with it a letter from the Caesar, Nero, to the procurator Albinus,commanding him to give me instant leave to go. Therefore, lady, it seemswise that I should go."

  "Yes," answered Miriam. "I know little of such things, but I think thatit is wise. Within two hours the bust shall be finished and packed," andshe stretched out her hand in farewell.

  Marcus took the hand and held it. "I am loth to part with you thus," hesaid suddenly.

  "There is only one fashion of parting," answered Miriam, striving towithdraw her hand.

  "Nay, there are many; and I hate them all--from you."

  "Sir," she asked with gentle indignation, "is it worth your while toplay off these pretty phrases upon me? We have met for an hour; weseparate--for a lifetime."

  "I do not see the need of that. Oh, the truth may as well out. I wish itleast of all things."

  "Yet it is so. Come, let my hand go; the marble must be finished andpacked."

  The face of Marcus became troubled, as though he were reasoning withhimself, as though he wished to take her at her word and go, yet couldnot.

  "Is it ended?" asked Miriam presently, considering him with her quieteyes.

  "I think not; I think it is but begun. Miriam, I love you."

  "Marcus," she answered steadily, "I do not think I should be asked tolisten to such words."

  "Why not? They have always been thought honest between man and woman."

  "Perhaps, when they are meant honestly, which in this case can scarcelybe."

  He grew hot and red. "What do you mean? Do you suppose----"

  "I suppose nothing, Captain Marcus."

  "Do you suppose," he repeated, "that I would offer you less than theplace of wife?"

  "Assuredly not," she replied, "since to do so would be to insult you.But neither do I suppose that you really meant to offer me that place."

  "Yet that was in my mind, Miriam."

  Her eyes grew soft, but she answered:

  "Then, Marcus, I pray you, put it out of your mind, since between usrolls a great sea."

  "Is it named Caleb?" he asked bitterly.

  She smiled and shook her head. "You know well that it has no such name."

  "Tell me of this sea."

  "It is easy. You are a Roman worshipping the Roman gods; I am aChristian worshipping the God of the Christians. Therefore we areforever separate."

  "Why? I do not understand. If we were married you might come to thinklike me, or I might come to think like you. It is a matter of the spiritand the future, not of the body and the present. Every day Christianswed those who are not Christians; sometimes, even, they convert them."

  "Yes, I know; but in my case this may not be--even if I wished that itshould be."

  "Why not?"

  "Because both by the command of my murdered father and of her own desiremy mother laid it on me with her dying breath that I should take tohusband no man who was not of our faith."

  "And do you hold yourself to be bound by this command?"

  "I do, without doubt and to the end."

  "However much you might chance to love a man who is not a Christian?"

  "However much I might chance to love such a man."

  Marcus let fall her hand. "I think I had best go," he said.

  "Yes."

  Then came a pause while he seemed to be struggling with himself.

  "Miriam, I cannot go."

  "Marcus, you must go."

  "Miriam, do you love me?"

  "Marcus, may Christ forgive me, I do."

  "Miriam, how much?"

  "Marcus, as much as a woman may love a man."

  "And yet," he broke out bitterly, "you bid me begone because I am not aChristian."

  "Because my faith is more than my love. I must offer my love upon thealtar of my faith--or, at the least," she added hurriedly, "I am boundby a rope that cannot be cut or broken. To break it would bring downupon your head and mine the curse of Heaven and of my parents, who areits inhabitants."

  "And if I became of your
faith?"

  Her whole face lit up, then suddenly its light died.

  "It is too much to hope. This is not a question of casting incense on analtar; it is a matter of a changed spirit and a new life. Oh! have done.Why do you play with me?"

  "A changed spirit and a new life. At the best that would take time."

  "Yes, time and thought."

  "And would you wait that time? Such beauty and such sweetness as areyours will not lack for suitors."

  "I shall wait. I have told you that I love you; no other man will beanything to me. I shall wed no other man."

  "You give all and take nothing; it is not just."

  "It is as God has willed. If it pleases God to touch your heart and topreserve us both alive, then in days to come our lives may be one life.Otherwise they must run apart till perchance we meet--in the eternalmorning."

  "Oh, Miriam, I cannot leave you thus! Teach me as you will."

  "Nay, go, Marcus, and teach yourself. Am I a bait to win your soul? Thepath is not so easy, it is very difficult. Fare you well!"

  "May I write to you from Rome?" he asked.

  "Yes, why not, if by that time you should care to write, who then willhave recovered from this folly of the desert and an idle moon?"

  "I shall write and I shall return, and we will talk of these matters;so, most sweet, farewell."

  "Farewell, Marcus, and the love of God go with you."

  "What of your love?"

  "My love is with you ever who have won my heart."

  "Then, Miriam, at least I have not lived in vain. Remember this always,that much as I may worship you, I honour you still more," and kneelingbefore her he kissed first her hand, and next the hem of her robe. Thenhe turned and went.