Beruriah straightened up in all her pride, in all her beauty, and looked at him ruthlessly, haughtily, wishing to pass him by. But he barred her way. A moment they eyed each other without a word; then he opened his lips and spoke to her:
“Cursed be the day when I first gazed upon you, but sevenfold accursed be the day on which my companions chose me to be your touchstone, and seventy-seven times accursed be the day on which I crossed the threshold of your home. May these days be obliterated from God’s year, and may the memory of them be a curse for generations. May they be days of calamity——”
Beruriah interrupted his malediction, speaking with merciless austerity:
“Job, too, did once the same and cursed a day of God’s. You may spare yourself this art of imprecation. Go your way and thank God that he led you to Beruriah’s home, and brought you not to greater sin,—Thank Him that two souls were rescued from eternal perdition. But before you leave, explain one thing to me. What do you mean when you say that your companions chose you to be my touchstone? If I understand you aright——”
Her glance was sharp and deeply penetrating, and Simeon replied, “You have understood me aright!”
With eyes agape and quickening breath she questioned further.
“And the story of the agents was a lie?”
Simeon answered feverishly, trembling in every limb.
“The tale was false from the beginning to the end. No single word of truth was in it. The Academy, who knew the fortitude of your heart against death, wished to know, too, the strength of your heart against love. And they chose me——”
Again she interrupted his account, with staring eyes and breath that came in gasps.