he had written, “by setting down opposite these several items the prices
at which you could furnish them to-day?”
The man’s eyes snapped as he looked over the long list and saw how many
expensive articles it included. When he had set down prices as requested,
and had handed back the paper to Cimon, he said:
“The figures may seem to you somewhat large; but they are for first-class
goods. In fact, I have made the prices smaller than they would be for
small lots, considering the length of your list.”
Cimon examined the paper carefully.
“The prices are unexpectedly large, I confess,” he said gravely. “Have
these goods risen in value lately?”
“By no means. The figures I have given you are the lowest we have made in
many years.”
“Then you have been in charge of this department for a considerable time?”
“For twenty years.”
“Are these the bottom prices for so long a time as that?”
“Just so.”
“You surprise me. Are you quite sure that there is no mistake in
this—that your memory serves you faithfully in regard to so many years?”
“Perfectly sure,” with emphasis. “You see, all the business of this
department, so far as sales are concerned, has been in my hands for the
number of years I have mentioned; and I remember perfectly that never
during all that time have we offered or sold such goods as these at such
low figures as I have written.”
“I think, then,” said Cimon, “it would be well for you to add as much
to this paper. Would you object to write at the bottom, ‘These are the
lowest figures at which the above goods have been sold for the last
twenty years?’”
“Not at all,” said the man—and wrote accordingly.
Cimon took the paper and courteously withdrew.
In very much the same manner and with like success he dealt with several
other establishments in the same neighborhood—obtaining from each a
written statement of present prices and of how these compared, with the
prices of the years immediately preceding. The last place he visited
was that of Simeon Ben Simeon. Here, for the first time, he saw himself
recognized—Simeon himself being present—and was received in a very
cordial way.
“We certainly are under great obligations to you and that magnificent
young friend of yours for your spirited help yesterday in the synagogue.
I have been quite desirous to meet you again: especially as I saw that
both of you were much interested in my report of matters in Judea, and,
as I ventured to think, took very much the same view of them as I did.
Also, I have something new to tell you.”
Simeon then gave the account with which we are already familiar, as given
to Aleph by Rachel. And, in return, the Greek related what Shaphan had
told him—keeping back, however, the part that related to Malus. And they
rejoiced together.
“Tell me,” said Simeon suddenly, “about that young man—you know whom
I mean. Somehow he has a way of walking into one’s confidence and
affections after a very wonderful fashion. Who is he?”
Cimon smiled at this downrightness and furious driving at the mark.
“For the present,” said he, “he is only the friend and pupil of Cimon
the son of Cimon. I may, however, add that he is one who is quite
worthy of the impression he makes. The gold is solid. I have now known
him for twenty years—that is to say, ever since he was born—and I have
nothing but good and great things to say of him. Is he my son? Of course
not—as one can easily see—but though not my son he is a remarkably good
substitute for one. I could hardly have a better. And,” he added archly,
“I think seriously of adopting him.”
The Jew laughed at the cleverness of the Greek, and forebore to press;
only adding, “_I_ could adopt him _without_ thinking seriously of it.”
As he rose to leave, Cimon said, “I am really sorry that I cannot at
present give you the information you wish about my young friend. But I am
under bonds. His father only can release me, and that father is far away.
So I must confine myself to saying that, unlike most plants which begin
to wither as soon as they are parted from the parent root, this plant
daily freshens into a larger life. I am the more sorry that I cannot go
beyond this, both because you have already given me information of the
highest value, and because I came here for the very purpose of getting
still further information from you—provided you can consistently grant
it. I wish to get from the leading dealers in eastern goods in this city
the present selling prices of a number of articles—also how these prices
compare with those of as many past years as possible. I have already
obtained written statements from all, save yourself, on whom I proposed
to call. Do you see any objection to giving me yours?”
“None in the world. Let me see your list.”
So in a few moments Cimon added another to his papers. As Simeon handed
it to him, he said:
“I think you can hardly have called on Malus to-day, and yet he has the
largest establishment of your sort in the city. He would hardly care to
give you such a paper as this. He is much too deep for that.”
Without a word, the Greek singled out one from his parcel of papers and
passed it to the Jew—who as soon as he had glanced it over, exclaimed:
“Where was Malus when this was given?”
“Absent.”
“Of course. _Of course_ he was absent—as his deputy will probably be when
the master learns of his indiscretion.”
As Cimon had noticed no sign of recognition in street or shop, save at
Simeon’s, he had begun to feel that perhaps his precautions had been
unnecessary; so, when he had taken leave of Simeon and saw how large a
part of the day still remained, instead of crossing directly into the
Greek quarter again and so proceeding homeward, he turned northward on
Emporium Street till he came to the great square at the intersection
with the street of Canopus. Here, seeing a crowd that seemed greatly
interested with something in their midst, he crossed over to them, and
finally managed, by a patient use of the impatience of others, to secure
a place where he could see what was going on.
And this was what was going on. A number of street boys, altogether
Jewish, were busy practicing a new game. They had drawn on the pavement
with a charred stick the ground plan of a large building which Cimon at
once recognized as the Diapleuston. Just before him was an unmarked place
for the principal door: half way down on the left was a pile of boxes to
stand for the main _bema_ with its canopy and lecturn: in front of this
stood a group of boys pretending to be in earnest conversation among
themselves. After this show had continued for a while, all but two of
the boys walked off and squatted silently behind the boxes. The two boys
left continued the pantomime of conversation for a few minutes, when a
noise was heard and lo, another group of boys who had been hid behind the
fountain came marching in at the door, two by two, with papyrus helmits
on their heads and long, sharpened sticks for spears, trying to keep pace
together in soldierly fashion, and carrying in their midst, transfixed on
an extra long stick, a very ragged, dirty, and hideous doll. At the head
of this company swaggered, perhaps the best dressed, but certainly the
ugliest little rascal of the whole lot. He had taken some pains to add
to his natural accomplishments such smutches of loveliness as a liberal
use of mud and charcoal could give, and would have frightened his own
father and mother. About his waist was a rope for a sash: to this was
attached a bit of papyrus cut into the shape of a scabbard; in his hand
he flourished as sword a short strip of lath that had just come from the
shambles and was red enough to be the sword of Mars.
This high and mighty captain at once led his company straight to the two
boys, surrounded them, and fell to abusing them with his tongue as only a
practiced street Arab could do. On this, the other boys behind the boxes
hurried to the scene of action, and threw in a liberal accompaniment of
voice and gesture to swell the interest of the occasion. Soon Captain
Mars worked himself into a tempest, flew at one of the two boys, with his
bloody weapon uplifted. The other boys so crowded about the encounter
with outstretched and swaying arms as to confuse the view of the
spectators; but in a few moments they saw the mimic sword flying high
in air, and then its owner in close custody in process of being marched
helplessly toward the door, followed by his tatterdemalions hanging their
heads and staggering about as they were pushed and pulled and cuffed by
the screaming and enthusiastic escort that hemmed them closely in. At the
door the leader was dismissed with a rousing box on the ear which sent
him off on a stagger, which finally ended in a runaway toward the Roman
quarter. His followers each received a like compliment with a like result.
The spectators seemed to enjoy this conclusion hugely. They cheered and
gesticulated with great enthusiasm; and when the hot chase took place
they all hurried off to keep it in view. The last to follow was a man who
had been standing just before Cimon. This man, glancing right and left as
if to make sure that the ground was clear, directed his course across the
square so as to take on his way the two boys who had personated Cimon and
Aleph, and dealt each of them in passing a thwack on the head that was
none of the mildest. At all events, it was not a mild wailing that the
little fellows set up. Luckily, however, Cimon had noticed the movements
of the man, and half divining his purpose, had followed him so closely
that he was near enough when the blows were given to follow them with
prompt punishment. The two hearty cuffs he gave the fellow were quite
equal in value to those he had administered, and seemed very surprising.
In the startled and inflamed face that was suddenly turned toward him,
Cimon recognized, as he thought, Roman features, though considerably
disguised. Could it be that he had again encountered the son of the
Governor? But the man gave him no opportunity for a closer examination.
He went rapidly off with a Latin oath and a fist-shaking that belonged to
all languages.
Cimon consoled the children with a friendly pat on the head and a piece
of money for each—such as he had never before possessed. But they hardly
needed this consolation—they were so delighted with the summary judgment
on their oppressor. Smiles were already rippling over their tearful faces
like sunshine over a wet landscape. And when the friendly look and touch
and money were added, their sorrows were all forgotten in a caper of
delight. But Cimon was really sorry that the urchins had not chosen some
other theme for their sport.
“Ten to one,” said he to himself, “this affair, with liberal
embellishments, will be carried straight to Bruchium, and will still
further stir up ill blood between the sections. There will be trouble
here before long. These Jews are too reckless and provoking to be left
alone. It may be that their expectation of a conquering Messiah at the
door has something to do with their audacity.”
With such thoughts as these running through his mind, he made his way
homeward through the Greek and Egyptian quarters. His thoughts ran, but
his feet walked—walked very leisurely; for so at this hour of the day
did most of the people; and he did not care to draw attention to himself
by doing differently from others. Besides, he wished to study the people,
as far as he could—without being observed. And it is wonderful how much
some people can see without the appearance of seeing. They could hardly
see more if their heads were set with a coronet of eyes. Do they divine
the situation? Do they absorb the facts lying about them at every pore
as they do heat and moisture? So it would seem. Cimon belonged to this
class of men. He did not stare, he did not look this way and that, and
sometimes turn about, with curiosity flooding every feature and saying,
“I am a new-comer,” but he pursued his way with quiet and equal steps and
with “eyes that looked right on, and eyelids that looked straight before
him”—and yet nothing escaped him; not even that shadow of a portly man
just disappearing within a shop on his left and that ragged little urchin
that almost immediately darted out of the same and followed him at a
little distance.
What should he do? A thought came to him as he came to a baker’s shop. He
turned in and called for a loaf and some cakes—keeping an eye on the open
door while his parcel was being made up. Presently the little ragamuffin
appeared cautiously peeping within. Cimon held out toward him a large,
tempting cake, and beckoned. The boy came in slowly, as if resisting an
irresistible magnet.
“Hungry, my lad?”
The hungry eyes and pinched features of the little fellow answered the
question before his bobbing head could say _Yes_, as it was not slow to
do.
“Had anything to eat to-day, my poor boy? Really, I do not believe you
have,” he added pityingly, as he looked more carefully into the thin,
dirty face.
The face began to cry.
“And you had no money to buy food with—had you?” inquired Cimon, as he
softly patted the curly head.
“He said he would give me some money when I came back,” said the boy.
“_Who_ said it?” asked Cimon.
“The man who sent me to see where you were going.”
“He did not think I was going into a baker’s shop to get you something to
eat—did he? Come, sit right down here on this bench and eat this loaf and
these cakes. Any more hungry ones at home?”
The boy at this began to sob, and at last broke into a perfect canter of
sobs. He muttered something which Cimon had to bend low to make out.
“What, poor mother and little sister! Alas, alas—how sorry I am! But do
you sit here and eat this; and when you have finished, the baker shall
give you twice as much to carry home to your hungry mother and sister,
for here is the money. If I could help, they should never be hungry
again.”
I do not know what the baker thought of this way of treating the little
beggar. But I know what the little beggar thought. He highly approved.
He soon dried his tears in the presence of kind looks, kind words,
and kinder food. What a glorious appetite that was! And while it was
being satisfied, or at least gratified, our friend quietly went his
way—unshadowed.
VII.
THE MATRICULATION
Δεῖ δὲ αὺτὰς τας μηρέρας τὰ τέκνα τρέφειν.
—PLUTARCH, _De Lib. Educ._ c. 5.
_Mothers must cherish their children._
1. An ethical lecture.
2. How students examine.
3. Is Jesus a magician?
4. Let Miriam testify.
VII.
THE MATRICULATION.
Aleph was greatly interested in Cimon’s account of his adventures—most of
all in the story of Shaphan. He determined to communicate it as soon as
possible to the daughter of Alexander. But when would it be possible? On
referring to his syllabus he found that Seti would lecture early the next
morning. He would attend that lecture, and afterward would go to look
after the sick woman Miriam. Perhaps he would find Rachel with her: if
not he might learn when she was likely to come, and so manage to meet her.
Before the third hour the next morning, both Cimon and Aleph found
themselves in the great lecture hall of the Serapeum. The students came
in scatteringly; but at length the room was well filled, for Seti was
popular with the young men. This was owing partly to the splendor of
his lineage and office, which always weighs much with even the most
democratic young men; partly to his repute as the heir of the mysterious
wisdom of Old Egypt; and partly to the wonderful contrast between
his years and the unabated vigor of both his bodily and intellectual
faculties. And then this son of the Pharaohs and supreme Egyptian pontiff
was fond of young men, reasonably tolerant of their ways, and knew how
to unite familiarity with dignity in his intercourse with them. But he
was specially in favor with the dominant aristocratic element. Some of
the other teachers were new men. Nobody knew who their fathers were. The
patrician young men from Rome and elsewhere declared that they _had_
no fathers. What had the Fabii and Claudii and Scipios to do with such
people?
Cimon and Aleph had taken seats well in the rear of the hall. So they had
opportunity to notice the bearing of the young men as they came in. On
the whole they were pleased with it. While a few had the air of triflers
and coxcombs, and here and there one had the jaded look that suggested
late hours and early dissipation, the most had in various degrees that
regulated and purposeful air which teachers like to see. Among the more
thoughtful and earnest looking Aleph noticed one of the two Romans whom
he had met at the banker’s. He also noticed that the ages of the students
seemed to average about the same as his own.
Almost every one who entered seemed to notice the new-comers; and soon
there was considerable whispering and passing to and fro among the
young men—which continued till Seti appeared. He stopped for a moment
to exchange salutations with our friends, and then conducted them to a
seat on the right of the bema. This was the customary seat for newly
matriculated persons: and was greatly for the convenience of older
collegians who thus not only became promptly aware of a new arrival, but
could quietly study him up without the fatigue and incivility of turning
about in their seats for the purpose. Of course it was at the expense of
the lecture. But never mind—there are some things more important than
lectures to young people; and one of them is the discipline of guessing
out characters from faces and bearing.
From the seat they now had the friends could see well what they had not
before noticed, viz., a small latticed gallery just opposite to them
from which came occasionally some hints and glints of white draperies.
Though none of the schools of the time distinctly contemplated the
co-education of the sexes, there was nothing in public opinion,
especially at Alexandria, to hinder the daughters of the professors and
other approved ladies from hearing the lectures given to the young men;
though it was thought best to place the beauties where they could not be
seen. The professors generally favored this invisible presence as being
conducive to good order and gentlemanly conduct among the students. The
chivalrous instinct was not a medieval invention, nor even an invention
of Christianity. The students at the Serapeum in the First Century knew
that bright eyes were watching them and behaved accordingly.
The lecture of Seti was on the ethics of truthfulness. It was delivered
with a grave and quiet dignity and authority well befitting his years and
station, and yet with a subtle fire and force of thought and expression
that suited wonderfully youthful tastes. He had no manuscript before him,
nor did he seem to have one within him from which he was reading; but he
seemed to find his thoughts in the faces and eyes of his hearers as his
keen glances went to and fro among them. And the young men felt that they
were being perused.
On the way home, the day before, Seti had informed Aleph of a custom
among the students. He had matriculated with the _Faculty_ of the
University: the students would ask him to matriculate also with
themselves. Each new-comer was not considered by them as invested with
full membership till they had examined him for themselves and settled his
grade among them as a collegian. It was possible to avoid the ordeal, if
he saw fit; but a cheerful acceptance of it would conduce to popularity,
and, if the trial should be well sustained, would give him a commanding
influence. What would Aleph prefer? Seti had asked with a shade of
anxiety in his face.
“By all means,” Aleph had said with a smile, “let not this custom be
waived on my account. I rather fancy the double matriculation.”
So he was not surprised when at the conclusion of the lecture all the
students retained their seats. He was, however, somewhat surprised to
see that Seti retained his also. But he had no time to speculate on
the matter: for a fine looking young man at once came forward and,
courteously calling attention to the badge the stranger wore, inquired
whether he wished such further membership and privileges among them as an
examination by the students would confer.
Aleph rose and as courteously replied that such was his wish; and that he
would not on any account have any of the usual formalities omitted.
“This being so,” continued the young man, “your full consent to our
ancient custom having thus been graciously conceded, I call on our
committee for testing candidates to come forward in proper order and
discharge their duty. I will only premise for your information that the
examination will ask two questions—first, _What do you know?_ and second,
_What can you do?_”
Whereupon two young men presented themselves, and one of them said, “I
have the honor to put the first question—_What do you know?_”
Aleph smiled.
“Excuse my smiling,” said he, “at the exceeding largeness of your
question, if I attempt to answer it, I must begin with confessing that
my knowledge is very limited. Compared with what there is to be known,
it is practically nothing; compared with what I wish to know it is very
trifling indeed; perhaps further examination may show that it is also
very trifling in comparison with what some of my fellow-students know,”
and he bowed to the young men. A ripple of laughter went through the room.
“If you find my associate’s question,” said the other member of the
committee, “a little too large to be manageable, perhaps you will tell us
what you already know of the various branches of knowledge preliminary
to those studied here. Doubtless you have informed yourself as to our
curriculum; it not being considered in general a wise thing to leap into
the dark.”
“This question,” returned Aleph, “is not indeed as broad as the other;
but still it would be hard to give you a satisfactory answer (I mean
one satisfactory to yourself, for this I could wish to do) unless you
will tell me what branches of knowledge _you_ consider preparatory to
this Institution. I fancy there might be a difference of opinion as to
that matter—after setting aside a few elementary things. I can read and
write and speak the Greek and Latin languages after a fashion: have
such acquaintance with the literature in these tongues as, I should
hope, would enable me to understand such references to them as may
occur in your lectures; have also had some little practice in moral and
mathematical reasoning, sufficient, I should hope, for understanding
a good argument when presented. Is there any further preparation
needed? I have indeed heard (what I suppose to be true) that a little
knowledge of religion—some just and clear ideas of Deity and duty and
responsibility—is a good thing in the way of preparation for university
life. In regard to that sort of knowledge, I can only say that if I do
not possess it the fault does not lie with my parents or other teachers”
(he slightly inclined his head toward Cimon). “They have done their duty.
But perhaps my questioner does not lay any stress on this last sort of
knowledge as a valuable preliminary to the speculations and associations
of college life. It is even possible that he considers it a decided
disadvantage. I know that such views are sometimes found among students.”
Aleph had drawn his bow at a venture. But the broad wave of laughter that
now swept through the hall assured him that somebody had been hit. Was it
not the questioner himself, whose color had sensibly deepened?
His mate took up the broken thread. “Certainly we did not all come here
with as good a preparation as that: but perhaps you have done more than
the preparatory, and already know considerably of the branches of study
which engage us here. Such advanced students often come to us for various
reasons.”