nclude the distasteful subject.

"Nisan, 8th day.

"On the road from Galilee to Jerusalem.

"The Nazarene is on the way also. With him, though without his
knowledge, I am bringing a full legion of mine. A second legion
follows. The Passover will excuse the multitude. He said upon
setting out, 'We will go up to Jerusalem, and all things that
are written by the prophets concerning me shall be accomplished.'

"Our waiting draws to an end.

"In haste.

"Peace to thee, Simonides.

"BEN-HUR."

Esther returned the letter to her father, while a choking sensation
gathered in her throat. There was not a word in the missive for
her--not even in the salutation had she a share--and it would have
been so easy to have written "and to thine, peace." For the first time
in her life she felt the smart of a jealous sting.

"The eighth day," said Simonides, "the eighth day; and this, Esther,
this is the--"

"The ninth," she replied.

"Ah, then, they may be in Bethany now."

"And possibly we may see him to-night," she added, pleased into
momentary forgetfulness.

"It may be, it may be! To-morrow is the Feast of Unleavened Bread,
and he may wish to celebrate it; so may the Nazarene; and we may
see him--we may see both of them, Esther."

At this point the servant appeared with the wine and water.
Esther helped her father, and in the midst of the service Iras
came upon the roof.

To the Jewess the Egyptian never appeared so very, very beautiful
as at that moment. Her gauzy garments fluttered about her like a
little cloud of mist; her forehead, neck, and arms glittered with
the massive jewelry so affected by her people. Her countenance
was suffused with pleasure. She moved with buoyant steps,
and self-conscious, though without affectation. Esther at the
sight shrank within herself, and nestled closer to her father.

"Peace to you, Simonides, and to the pretty Esther peace," said Iras,
inclining her head to the latter. "You remind me, good master--if
I may say it without offence-you remind me of the priests in Persia
who climb their temples at the decline of day to send prayers after
the departing sun. Is there anything in the worship you do not know,
let me call my father. He is Magian-bred."

"Fair Egyptian," the merchant replied, nodding with grave politeness,
"your father is a good man who would not be offended if he knew I told
you his Persian lore is the least part of his wisdom."

Iras's lip curled slightly.

"T