s about to lift her up, when Miriam caught him by the arm,
and in a hurried whisper--'Are you mad? Will you ruin your own purpose?
Why did you tell her this? Why did you not wait--give her hope--time
to collect herself--time to wean herself from her lover, instead of
terrifying and disgusting her at the outset, as you have done? Have you
a man's heart in you? No word of comfort for that poor creature, nothing
but hell, hell, hell--See to your own chance of hell first! It is
greater than you fancy!'

'It cannot be greater than I fancy!'

'Then see to it. For her, poor darling!--why, even we Jews, who know
that all you Gentiles are doomed to Gehenna alike, have some sort of
hope for such a poor untaught creature as that.'

'And why is she untaught? Wretch that you are. You have had the
training of her! You brought her up to sin and shame! You drove from her
recollection the faith in which she was baptized!'

'So much the better for her, if the recollection of it is to make her
no happier than it does already. Better to wake unexpectedly in Gehenna
when you die, than to endure over and above the dread of it here. And
as for leaving her untaught, on your own showing she has been taught too
much already. Wiser it would be in you to curse your parents for having
had her baptized, than me for giving her ten years' pleasure before she
goes to the pit of Tophet. Come now, don't be angry with me. The old
Jewess is your friend, revile her as you will. She shall marry this
Goth.'

'An Arian heretic!'

'She shall convert him and make a Catholic of him, if you like. At all
events, if you wish to win her, you must win her my way. You have had
your chance, and spoiled it. Let me have mine. Pelagia, darling! Up, and
be a woman! We will find a philtre downstairs to give that ungrateful
man, that shall make him more mad about you, before a day is over, than
ever you were about him.'

'No!' said Pelagia, looking up. 'No love-potions! No poisons!'

'Poisons, little fool! Do you doubt the old woman's skill? Do you think
I shall make him lose his wits, as Callisphyra did to her lover last
year, because she would trust to old Megaera's drugs, instead of coming
to me!'

'No! No drugs; no magic! He must love me really, or not at all! He
must love me for myself, because I am worth loving, because he honours,
worships me, or let me die. I, whose boast was, even when I was basest,
that I never needed such mean tricks, but conquered like