Mattathias would rather have you absent,"
observed the first speaker.

"Abishai, when the storm bursts, a son's place is by the side of his
father," said the princely Hebrew; and as he spoke he threw up a
spadeful of earth from the pit which Lycidas doubted not was meant for
a grave.

Again the work proceeded in silence. The moon had risen above the
trees before that silence was once more broken, this time by the leader
of the band,--

"It is deep enough now, and broad enough; go ye and bring the honoured
dead."

The command was at once obeyed. All the men present, excepting the
chief himself, who remained standing in the grave, went towards the
group which has been previously mentioned. Interest chained Lycidas to
the spot, though it occurred to his mind that prudence required him to
seize this favourable opportunity of quietly making his escape.

The Greek remained, watching in the shadow, as on the rudest of biers,
formed by two javelins fastened by cross-bars together, the swathed
forms of the dead, one after another, were borne to the edge of the
pit. They were followed by the two female mourners that had kept guard
over the remains while the grave was being prepared. The first of
these was a tall, stately woman, with hair which glistened in the
moonbeams like silver, braided back from a face of which age had not
destroyed the majestic beauty. Sternly sad stood the Hebrew matron by
the grave of the martyred dead; no tear in her eyes, which were bright
with something of prophetic fire. So might a Deborah have stood, had
Sisera won the victory, and she had had to raise the death-wall over
Israel's slain, instead of the song of triumph to hail the conquerors'
return.

The other female form, which was smaller, and exquisitely graceful in
its movements, remained slightly retired, and still closely veiled.
Lycidas remarked that the eyes of the leader watched that veiled form,
as it approached, with a softened and somewhat anxious expression.
This was, however, but for some moments, and the Hebrew then gave his
undivided attention to the pious work on which he was engaged.

Still standing in the grave, the chief received the bodies, one by one,
from the men who had borne them to the place of interment. He took
each corpse in his powerful arms, and unaided laid it down in its last
resting-place, as gently as if he were laying down on a soft couch a
sleeper whom he feared to awaken. Lycidas caught a glimp