e be advantaged? Presently they must cease from their
endearments; presently his enemy would return as he had come, and then
he might find his chance. He would wait, he would wait.

Look, they had parted; Miriam was gliding back to the house, and Marcus
came towards him, walking like a man in his sleep. Only Nehushta
stood where she was, her eyes fixed upon the ground as though she were
reasoning with herself. Still like a man in a dream, Marcus passed him
within touch of his outstretched hand. Caleb followed. Marcus opened the
door, went out of it, and pulled it to behind him. Caleb caught it
in his hand, slipped through and closed it. A few paces down the
wall--eight or ten perhaps--was another door, by which Marcus entered
the garden of the guest-house. As he turned to shut this, Caleb pushed
in after him, and they were face to face.

"Who are you?" asked the Roman, springing back.

Caleb, who by now was cool enough, closed the door and shot the bolt.
Then he answered, "Caleb, the son of Hilliel, who wishes a word with
you."

"Ah!" said Marcus, "the very man, and, as usual, unless the light
deceives me, in an evil humour. Well, Caleb the son of Hilliel, what is
your business with me?"

"One of life and death, Marcus the son of Emilius," he answered, in such
a tone that the Roman drew his sword and stood watching him.

"Be plain and brief, young man," he said.

"I will be both plain and brief. I love that lady from whom you have
just parted, and you also love, or pretend to love, her. Nay, deny it
not; I have seen all, even to your kisses. Well, she cannot belong to
both of us, and I intend that in some future day she shall belong to
me if arm and eye do not fail me now. Therefore one of us must die
to-night."

Marcus stepped back, overcome not with fear, but with astonishment.

"Insolent," he said, "you lie! There were no kisses, and our talk was of
your neck, that I gave to her because she asked it, which is forfeit for
the murder of the Jew."

"Indeed," sneered Caleb. "Now, who would have thought that the noble
Captain Marcus would shelter thus behind a woman's robe? For the rest,
my life is my own and no other's to give or to receive. Guard yourself,
Roman, since I would kill you in fair fight. Had I another mind you
would be dead by now, never knowing the hand that struck you. Have no
fear; I am your equal, for my forefathers were nobles when yours were
savages."

"Boy, are you mad," asked Marcus, "