"Doth our brother awake?" Martha asked, reentering the room. "Nay? A messenger is well on his way with a command of haste and the promise of thrice his fee if the physician is swift."
"Thou art wise. The promise of gold putteth wings on slow heels. But, Martha, my sister, would that the servant, Eli, had wings and were flying toward Peraea. Through the night as I did watch beside my brother, I did think of the many suffering ones the Master hath healed. And not one of them all did he love as he loveth our brother."
"Aye, he loveth Lazarus. And if death crosses our threshold will it not be as if death entered his own abode?"
"Lazarus—oh, my brother—wouldst thou lie so silent if the Master called thy name?" Mary pleaded, bending over the couch. Then to Martha she said, "The minutes pass like aged oxen turning rocky soil."
"The physician will not be long coming. With haste must I set the house in order." And Martha hung several garments on hooks in the wall, smoothed the couch covers, straightened the cups and bowls on the table, blew out the lamp and pulled back the curtains. Looking out the window she gave a short cry, exclaiming, "The sky is red—red as if a great veil had been dipped in blood and hung across the sun. Such a sight in the morning is an evil sign," and her face showed fear.
"I put not faith in signs," Mary replied.
"Since the beginning hath Israel been warned by signs and dreams," and
Martha shook her head in sadness.
"Signs take neither the living nor bring back the dead. Hand me the pot of herbs and help me here," and Mary turned to the couch.
"Doth he swallow?" Martha inquired anxiously as she held her brother's head while Mary tried to administer the dose.
"Nay."