"Thou lovest Helena."
"How knowest thou that?"
"I am a woman."
They walked on silently.
"And this is what thou camest to say?"
"Nay, this. Thou must marry her and be happy."
"I--I cannot, Miriam. Thou dost not understand."
"Not understand! I can read thee as thou readest the Law--without
vowels. Thou thinkest we Jews will point the finger of scorn at thee,
that we will say it was Helena thou didst love, not the Crucified One,
that we will not listen to thy gospel."
"But is it not so?"
"It is so."
"Then--"
"But it will be so, do what thou wilt. Cut thyself into little pieces
and we would not believe in thee or thy gospel. I alone have faith in
thy sincerity, and to me thou art as one mad with over-study. Joseph,
thy dream is vain. The Jews hate thee. They call thee Haman.
Willingly would they see thee hanged on a high tree. Thy memory will
be an execration to the third and fourth generation. Thou wilt no more
move them than the seven hills of Rome. They have stood too long."
"Ay, they have stood like stones. I will melt them. I will save them."
"Thou wilt destroy them. Save rather thyself--wed this woman and be
happy."
He looked at her.
"Be happy," she repeated. "Do not throw away thy life for a vain
shadow. Be happy. It is my last word to thee. Henceforth, as a true
daughter of Judah, I obey the ban, and were I a mother in Israel my
children should be taught to hate thee even as I do. Peace be with
thee!"
He caught at her gown. "Go not without my thanks, though I must reject
thy counsel. To-morrow I am admitted into the Brotherhood of
Righteousness." In the fading light his face shone weird and unearthly
amid the raven hair. "But why didst thou risk thy good name to tell me
thou hatest me?"
"Because I love thee. Farewell."
She sped away.
He stretched out his arms after her. His eyes were blind with mist.
"Miriam, Miriam!" he cried. "Come back, thou too art a Christian! Come
back, my sweet sister in Christ!"
A drunken Dominican lurched into his open arms.