XXXVII
"IF I WERE A JEW"
The mutual welcome of Deborah and Dion was in briefest words, for each knew more of its occasion than either cared to express; therefore the appearance of the Princess upon the scene served as a convenient diversion for both. Deborah told of the woman's attempt to beguile her brother, without intimating how she herself had come just in time to save this human moth from shrivelling his wings in the flame.
"How could she have thought to deceive you, Glaucon," said Dion, "after she had so completely unmasked her character at the dance? None but a stupid fool, or one as wicked as herself, would be tempted by her wiles after that."
The speaker did not notice that the Jew winced under his words.
"You may mistake her," replied Glaucon, as soon as he had ceased to shrink into himself, and recovered enough outward wit to say anything. "That she danced is no more against the dignity of a Princess, than it is for Antiochus to play the buffoon along the streets of Antioch, as we both saw him do in the great procession."
"Whatever she may be, she goes out of the city very soon," replied Dion. "The kinsfolk of Apollonius have heard of her claim, and have denounced her to the Governor Lycias."
Glaucon, having gathered up the scattered jewels, wrapped them each in its linen covering, and put them into the bag; then withdrew with mutterings, which it is uncertain if they were against his mistress or her exposers.
The shell fringes of the curtain had not ceased their jangling as Glaucon passed through them before Dion cast himself at Deborah's feet.
"Tell me, Deborah, are you human, or a divinity? You are risking your life to save me from harm. Is this from a woman's misjudgment, or from a motive which only the gods can understand and give?"
"Dion," replied she, with offended mien, "rise. You shall not assume such an attitude before a girl of the Jews—a mere child, whose gratefulness you have chanced to win by your kindness."
"But why, Deborah, why this awful sacrifice you are venturing? Soon General Gorgias will be here. He is as cruel as an avalanche when his purpose moves, and he has sworn to leave not so much as a bone of a Jewish child outside the valley of Hinnom. That you are the daughter of Elkiah, chief of the Sanhedrin, is sufficient to excite his vengeance, even without the stories of your escapades as a spy, with which Menelaos' party are filling all ears. There is no hope for you here. Vanish again, I beseech you, as mysteriously as you will, for I cannot endure that you should become a sacrifice for me. I entreat it, Deborah. Go away again!"
"Why," replied she, "that would make the matter worse, my good friend. It is known, or soon will be, that I am now here; but if I disappear again it will bring new accusation against you for being in some collusion with me."
"I care nothing for such accusation. I would willingly die in the tower with the sweet thought that you were safe from insult and danger," cried the soldier passionately.
"But, my dear Dion, I think there is need of neither of us playing tragedy. Maybe, as you say, I can vanish at will. If so, I shall always be safe, and then, when you are in danger, I can reappear, and they will say, 'Dion has guarded his prisoner faithfully!'"
Deborah became quite merry with her pleasant conceit.
Dion could not help catching some of the lighter manner of his companion. He took both her hands.
"I pray you, do not vanish quite yet. Tell me what motive led you to do this desperate deed in my behalf? You will not love me?"
He paused, gazing quizzically at her, but drew from her face not a flicker of such sentiment as certain past experience had led him to hope for.
"Then, since you do not love me, your action was prompted only by humane motives, to save a wretched Greek from some inconvenience; and for this you risk your life? I cannot understand you."
"Dion," replied Deborah, all mirth now gone from her manner, "Dion, I am a Jewess. Think not that our people's vows are only to save our land and nation. We serve these because these stand for Jehovah's law of righteousness and justice. Would it be right for me to leave you to suffer unjustly for my sake? I would be unfaithful to Jewry to so treat even a Greek. Your philosophy may teach you how to evade such questions, but our Jewish law is simple and plain. It commands us to 'do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with our God.' We need speak of no other sentiment."
Her eyelashes did quiver a little as she said this.
Then, looking him fairly in the face and returning the strong grasp of his hands, she added: "If my sense of duty were not sufficiently strong, my gratitude to my noble friend and protector would prompt me so to act, and so to speak.
"Dion, we have been, though of hostile blood, too much to each other during these terrible days to doubt that we are led by the same hand of Providence. I cannot see His will. I must not prejudge it. I can only act upon each duty that I see, and as I see it. But this much is plain to me—and you will not mistake my meaning, good friend—I can have no such interests as other women may feel while my people are enslaved. To this I have vowed before my nation's God. The redemption of Israel from the hand of him whom you by your soldier's oath have vowed to serve, that fills my heart. That is my only sentiment; my only passion; but it is a passion of fire. All else must burn away before it."
"But," replied Dion, speaking very slowly, as if to hear the echo of each word from the depth of her heart before venturing another, and watching her eyes for indication, as boys watch the ripples their pebbles make when dropped into a well, "if—I—were—a—Jew it might be otherwise? You could love me if I were only a Jew? Deborah, I am a Jew in my faith—since you have taught me that faith. I am a soldier of fortune, and have sold my sword to the lord of Antioch, but I would willingly give it to your people, were it not that I foresee the hopelessness of your cause. But with your love I could die for Judaism."
"Noble Dion, these words are ill-considered. The leopard cannot change his spots, as says our Scripture; nor can a Greek become a Jew. And surely not so light a thing as a passing fancy for a Jewish girl should lead you to think to attain the impossible."
"But if—I—were a Jew?" queried he. "If you will tell me that if Dion were a Jew you could love him, that will be my happiness even as we part."
"If Dion were a Jew," replied Deborah, "he were worthy of being brother to the sons of Mattathias, and worthy the love of any woman." With which words she ran from the room.
Captain Dion stood looking at—nothing, while the sand ran half out of the glass.
"Am I a Jew or a Greek? I am surely a Jew inwardly, and," glancing into a polished steel mirror, "my nose is not, as I have often heard it said, as a good Greek's should be, perfectly straight with my forehead. By Jove! I could wish that a sabre cut might bend it more. But, Greek though I am, my sword and my wit are my own, and shall have but one duty when Gorgias takes the city—to guard this house and the woman who—would—love—me—if—I—were—a—Jew. So much is clear, clear as the Jew's law. Let me see if I can be a Jew. First 'to do justly.' Yes, it will be only downright justice to give my life for hers, since she has offered hers for mine more than once. Secondly, 'to love mercy.' Of course I do—in this case. Thirdly, 'to walk humbly with my God.' Well, if I knew who God is, I would. God of Jew or Greek teach me that! Amen!"