“No fear, Jew, such a wondrous beauty! Had I been Haman and she Esther, I never could have crossed her. Heavens, Jew, it is well said the people of promise produce the most beautiful women of earth. That’s why Deity elected one of them, through whom to be incarnate, I think.”
“I think I heard the knight say, awhile ago, that the revolution of all religions was to come when men’s admiration for women rose far above rapture over outward form. Is it not so?”
“Ah, it’s thy remembering and my forgetting that keeps us crossing each other! But no matter; am I looking at an angel or not?”
“That’s the priest’s only daughter; his idol, ay, the idol of every youth in all these parts of Israel. No nation can be dead while it produces such flowers.”
Suddenly the camp blazed with re-illumination, and then began a carnival. Games and dancers were everywhere. Some, evidently men, were dressed as women, and others, evidently women, were garbed as men. For one season, Purim, the command against the interchange of garments between the sexes, was suspended. Each reveler carried a little box. If he asked a favor or a question, the reply was a challenge to try lots. Partners were so chosen, tasks given and predictions made. Laughter was everywhere, and wine was flowing.
“Ichabod, I haven’t tasted wine since Acre! Why dost thou not introduce me yonder?”
“Wait; they will all be mellow, soon. They may be, too, for it’s a law that a Jew is not deemed drunk at ‘Purim’ so long as he can discern between a blessing for Mordecai and a curse for Haman.”
“Heavens! how they do imbibe.”