fountain
the spear of the soldier presseth hard against the ribs of those who
congregate to exchange a word."

The man, who was fashioning a heavy yoke, lifted his bearded face to
that of the woman. "A score of hundred!" he exclaimed. "To-morrow's
sun will climb over Tabor to the ring of axes cutting green timber for
twenty hundred crosses! The mercy of God on the victims!"

"Yea--and to-morrow's sun will set with the breeze of evening wafting
one great groan of agony over the hills and vales of Galilee--one great
sob of lamentation--one great curse on the barbarians of the city on
the Tiber. And this for no crime save that of poverty!"

"Insurrection," the man corrected. "The Gaulonite raised, not a
popular revolt, alas. It is but _insurrection_."

"Insurrection!--and why not insurrection? The Gaulonite may hang on a
cross until the black winged ravens pick his bones and wild dogs carry
them to desert places, but the Gaulonite speaks the voice of our
fathers for verily, verily, the soil of the earth belongs to God, not
men, and the toiler should eat of the increase of his labor! Doth not
our toil yield the barley harvest, yet are we not ofttimes hungry?
Doth not our toil make the vine hang heavy in the vineyard, yet do not
our bottles droop empty of wine? Doth not the substance of our bitter
toiling go to the tax-gatherer? Aye, Joseph, thou knowest I speak
truly. It is tax--tax--tax,--land tax, temple tax, poll tax, army tax,
court tax--always tax; and when there is to be a great orgy in the
banquet halls of Rome, or Herod is to give a mighty feast for that
brazen harlot, his brother's wife, are we not reduced to the bran and
vinegar fare of slaves to pay the cost? A curse on Rome! A curse on
Herod!"

"Hist, Mary, hist! Know'st thou not there may be ears listening even
now behind the pomegranate?"

The woman glanced nervously toward the door where a leather curtain
hung. She crossed the room, lifted the curtain and looked out into the
court. It was empty save for a group of children. She returned to the
room and from the wall took several small skin bottles which she placed
by the water-jar. Then she called, "Jesu! Jesu!"

In answer a lad of six or eight years appeared from the court.

"Fill the bottles and hang them under the vine where the night breeze
will cool them for the morrow."

When the child had done her bidding he stepped to the door. "Mother,"
he said, "hear thou? There is we