“Candid again.”
“Exactly so; and waiving the third argument, that she probably might not choose to marry me, I beg to remark that it would not be proper to allow the world to say, that I, the subject, had a wiser and fairer wife than you, the ruler; especially a wife who had already refused that ruler’s complimentary offer.”
“By Jove! and she has refused me in good earnest! I’ll make her repent it! I was a fool to ask her at all! What’s the use of having guards, if one can’t compel what one wants? If fair means can’t do it, foul shall! I’ll send for her this moment!”
“Most illustrious majesty—it will not succeed. You do not know that woman’s determination. Scourges and red-hot pincers will not shake her, alive; and dead, she will be of no use whatsoever to you, while she will be of great use to Cyril.”
“How?”
“He will be most happy to make the whole story a handle against you, give out that she died a virgin-martyr, in defence of the most holy catholic and apostolic faith, get miracles worked at her tomb, and pull your palace about your ears on the strength thereof.”
“Cyril will hear of it anyhow: that’s another dilemma into which you have brought me, you intriguing rascal! Why, this girl will be boasting all over Alexandria that I have offered her marriage, and that she has done herself the honour to refuse me!”
“She will be much too wise to do anything of the kind; she has sense enough to know that if she did so, you would inform a Christian populace what conditions she offered you, and, with all her contempt for the burden of the flesh, she has no mind to be lightened of that pretty load by being torn in pieces by Christian monks; a very probable ending for her in any case, as she herself, in her melancholy moods, confesses!”
“What will you have me do then?”
“Simply nothing. Let the prophetic spirit go out of her, as it will, in a day or two, and then—I know nothing of human nature, if she does not bate a little of her own price. Depend on it, for all her ineffabilities, and impassibilities, and all the rest of the seventh-heaven moonshine at which we play here in Alexandria, a throne is far too pretty a bait for even Hypatia the pythoness to refuse. Leave well alone is a good rule, but leave ill alone is a better. So now another bet before we part, and this time three to one. Do nothing either way, and she sends to you of her own accord before a month is out. In Caucasian mules? Done? Be it so.”
“Well, you are the most charming counsellor for a poor perplexed devil of a prefect! If I had but a private fortune like you, I could just take the money, and let the work do itself.”
“Which is the true method of successful government. Your slave bids you farewell. Do not forget our bet. You dine with me tomorrow?”
And Raphael bowed himself out.
As he left the prefect’s door, he saw Miriam on the opposite side of the street, evidently watching for him. As soon as she saw him, she held on her own side, without appearing to notice him, till he turned a corner, and then crossing, caught him eagerly by the arm.
“Does the fool dare?”
“Who dare what?”
“You know what I mean. Do you suppose old Miriam carries letters without taking care to know what is inside them? Will he apostatise? Tell me. I am secret as the grave!”
“The fool has found an old worm-eaten rag of conscience somewhere in the corner of his heart, and dare not.”
“Curse the coward! And such a plot as I had laid! I would have swept every Christian dog out of Africa within the year. What is the man afraid of?”
“Hellfire.”
“Why, he will go there in any case, the accursed Gentile!”
“So I hinted to him, as delicately as I could; but, like the rest of the world, he had a sort of partiality for getting thither by his own road.”
“Coward! And whom shall I get now? Oh, if that Pelagia had as much cunning in her whole body as Hypatia has in her little finger, I’d seat her and her Goth upon the throne of the Caesars. But—”
“But she has five senses, and just enough wit to use them, eh?”
“Don’t laugh at her for that, the darling! I do delight in her, after all. It warms even my old blood to see how thoroughly she knows her business, and how she enjoys it, like a true daughter of Eve.”
“She has been your most successful pupil, certainly, mother. You may well be proud of her.”
The old hag chuckled to herself a while; and then suddenly turning to Raphael—“See here! I have a present for you;” and she pulled out a magnificent ring.
“Why, mother, you are always giving me presents. It was but a month ago you sent me this poisoned dagger.”
“Why not, eh?—why not? Why should not Jew give to Jew? Take the old woman’s ring!”
“What a glorious opal!”
“Ah, that is an opal, indeed! And the unspeakable name upon it; just like Solomon’s own. Take it, I say! Whosoever wears that never need fear fire, steel, poison, or woman’s eye.”
“Your own included, eh?”
“Take it, I say!” and Miriam caught his hand, and forced the ring on his finger. “There! Now you’re safe. And now call me mother again. I like it. I don’t know why, but I like it. And—Raphael Aben-Ezra—don’t laugh at me, and call me witch and hag, as you often do. I don’t care about it from anyone else; I’m accustomed to it. But when you do it, I always long to stab you. That’s why I gave you the dagger. I used to wear it; and I was afraid I might be tempted to use it
