‘Can you ask? To enjoy the society of the most finished gentleman of Pentapolis.’
‘And was that worth a week’s journey in perpetual danger of death?’
‘As for danger of death, that weighs little with a man who is careless of life. And as for the week’s journey, I had a dream one night, on my way, which made me question whether I were wise in troubling a Christian bishop with any thoughts or questions which relate merely to poor human beings like myself, who marry and are given in marriage.’
‘You forget, friend, that you are speaking to one who has married, and loved—and lost.’
‘I did not. But you see how rude I am growing. I am no fit company for you, or any man. I believe I shall end by turning robber-chief, and heading a party of Ausurians.’
‘But,’ said the patient Synesius ‘you have forgotten your dream all this while.
‘Forgotten!—I did not promise to tell it you—did I?’
‘No; but as it seems to have contained some sort of accusation against my capacity, do you not think it but fair to tell the accused what it was?’
Raphael smiled.
‘Well then.... Suppose I had dreamt this. That a philosopher, an academic, and a believer in nothing and in no man, had met at Berenice certain rabbis of the Jews, and heard them reading and expounding a certain book of Solomon—the Song of Songs. You, as a learned man, know into what sort of trumpery allegory they would contrive to twist it; how the bride’s eyes were to mean the scribes who were full of wisdom, as the pools of Heshbon were of water; and her stature spreading like a palm-tree, the priests who spread out their hands when blessing the people; and the left hand which should be under her head, the Tephilim which these old pedants wore on their left wrists; and the right hand which should hold her, the Mezuzah which they fixed on the right side of their doors to keep off devils; and so forth.’