"Naught but a miracle could have stopped me then; naught but the same interference could turn me again into the old way!"

She lifted his face and spoke to him with deep seriousness.

"Didst thou hear what the Spirit said?" she asked.

"We heard nothing, except Saul's words, which I told thee."

"And did Saul make thee a promise that he would persecute no more, or beg thy compa.s.sion or thy forgiveness for his work against thy Stephen?"

"He did not speak; he did not know me, for he was blind, and as one in a trance!"

"And thou hast withdrawn thy hand from him, and forsworn thine oath against him?"

"I have done that thing, Lydia."

She held fast to her composure, but her face was transfigured.

"Wherein art thou different, then, from the Nazarenes of Ptolemais who showed thee their doctrine of peace, and refused thee when thou wouldst have hurled them against Saul?" she asked.

For a moment there was silence. Then he arose on his knees and raising his hands clasped them on his breast, while the splendor of a divine enlightenment shone in his eyes.

"I know who came unto us there," he whispered. "It was the Christ!"

She laid her fluttering palms over his clasped hands and held them there, while each in his heart kept the silence, which, in such a moment, is prayer.

Then Marsyas withdrew a hand and took from the folds of his garment the little red cedar crucifix, and, kissing it, put it into her hands. The red cord was still attached to it, and, with solemnity on her face, she laid it about his neck and blessed him.

When the ecstasy of exaltation had pa.s.sed away, for they were young and the spirit of human love was strong between them, Lydia bade him listen, while she told him one other surprising thing.

"At the command of a heavenly vision, Ananias went this day unto the house of Judas the Pharisee, and into the darkened chamber, where Saul lay, blind and dumb. And by the gift of the Lord Jesus, Ananias laid his hands on Saul's head, and the blind man straightway had his sight.

So he arose and followed Ananias unto this house--"

"Here?" Marsyas cried.

"Unto this house, where, when he had broken fast and taken strength, he stood up and glorified Jesus of Nazareth, and received baptism unto the Church of the Nazarenes whom he persecuted hitherto unto death!"

Marsyas was silent. More than wonder filled his heart. Presently he said, as if speaking to himself:

"Is this thine hour, O my martyred Stephen? Art thou content?

Sleepest thou the better, knowing that I have followed thy testament for Saul, rather than mine own oath against him?"

Lydia left his communings unanswered, but when he put his hands over his face and laid his head in her lap, her own tears fell with his.

Feeling presently her touch on his hair, he raised his head to take the hand.

"Give it to me, my love," he said, "for it hath shaped my life anew, pointed me to the way that even the sacred dead would have me walk, and the joy and the comfort of all time to come lieth in the hollow of it!

Let me serve it, now!"

"And thou wilt not regret the peace of En-Gadi, in the world that can not fail to be troublous, some time?" she asked, but with the smile of one who does not fear the answer.

"I owe En-Gadi a debt," he said, "for the brethren were as father and mother to me when I had neither. Its teaching and its practices are pure, and its peace is good for them who fear the world. But with the help of Him who made thee strong and Stephen fearless, I shall not want pent-in walls to be happy and upright."

"Let Ananias teach thee, my love; let Saul show thee his heart; and then--"

"Send us back unto Alexandria, with the faith of Christ on our lips and the peace of His love in our hearts. Tell me that I may go with thee, Lydia!"

"I have been waiting for thee since the day we met in the Judean hills."

CHAPTER x.x.xVIII

THE REQUITAL

On the third day after his arrival in Jerusalem, Herod the king was in his privy cabinet arranging, with his own hands, the graven gems and articles of virtu, prizes brought from his trip to Antioch. The door was dubiously opened, and Agrippa, without turning his head, knew who stood there, for only one in the palace had been commanded to enter the king's presence without announcement.

"Well, Silas?" Agrippa said, contemplating the elusive tints of a jade goblet.

The old man pulled at the gorgeous uniform of master of horse, that hung from the peasant shoulders and answered:

"A friend of thy unfortunate days is without."

Agrippa's brows lifted and drew toward each other in a manner half-amused, half-vexed.

"The friends of my unfortunate days are the friends of my fortunate days; wherefore, they would liefer be known as friends of Agrippa the king, than of Agrippa the bankrupt. Give them their due and call them the king's companions. And Silas?"

"Yes, lord."

"The king would as lief forget that he ever had a misfortune."

Silas looked perplexed and rubbed his forehead.

"But who is it that stands without?" Agrippa continued.

"The Essene."

"What! Marsyas? By the Nymphae--beshrew me! By the beard of Balaam, I shall be glad to see him! Fetch him hither!"

Silas nodded in lieu of a bow.

"Lord, there is one with him; shall she enter also?"

"Who?"

"The alabarch's daughter."

"Nay! The little Athene! Terpsich.o.r.e's best! Not so; though, by Bacch--Balaam! she would be a fit jewel for this place. It shall be an audience hour. Go, summon the queen, and have the Essene and his priestess come to us in our hall!"