That night, however, the High Priest could not fall asleep. The small quantity of wine that he had permitted himself to drink at the table and the excitement kept sleep away from him. A confusion of human figures and dwellings and streets passed before his eyes; his ears buzzed with the endless hum of voices and instruments. But soon, from all the figures emerged that of Athaliah, and he could hear distinctly what she said and what Jason replied. At first it came to him unawares, like a dim remembrance, a slight impression. At once, however, the sight and the voice grew clear to him, and he became uneasy. He scowled angrily, as if trying to banish form and voice, and soon he began to toss from side to side. In vain! Athaliah stood before him, with her eyes that beamed with the sun transfixing him with her penetrating glance. He experienced a sensation that had come to his body many a time during his life,—one that he always feared as much as deadly sin, trying to drive it from him by his strong will, long prayers and severe fasting.
His being cried within him: he, he the octogenarian! How does he come to this? He raged against himself and thought of himself with scorn. Eighty years old and a High Priest! He directed his thoughts to God; his lips began to whisper a prayer. Yet the great crowds continued to pass before his eyes, and from the multitude, clear and well-defined, there stood out Jason’s sweetheart, the wonderfully beautiful Athaliah. Impossible to drive her from his thoughts! Impossible!
Suddenly Jason’s words caused his blood to boil. A curse upon the wretch’s mouth! What had he had of all his long life, his beauty and his strength! He had devoted these to God! God had given them to him and he was God’s debtor, and he had paid back God like an honest man. His life was God’s, and he lived for God. Whoever lived otherwise was a wicked man, a sinner against God, a debtor that evades his debts.
These thoughts made him strong. It was as if his muscles had become iron and his veins, steel.
But despite everything, Athaliah’s image did not disappear. She stood before him in all her beauty, with her radiant eyes, and that glance which penetrated into his bones and his very brain. He looked at her with ire and scorn; he even spat in disgust. All this was of no avail to banish the vision.
He lay calm, free of thoughts, and pretending to see nothing. His scorn of the feminine form knew no bounds. Soon, however, he arose and lighted a candle. The light must surely banish the evil vision. Seated on the side of the bed, his bare feet resting on the cold earth, he began to murmur a prayer. He was angry, utterly broken in body and soul. How came this to him, the aged man? Woe, woe, he had not lived righteously after all. The bodily, the fleshly, the sinful, still ruled over him.
He arose and stretched himself. Something now grew clear to him. As long as the soul dwells in the body, it must wage strife against the body. Thus was God’s will. And he would give battle! His will was strong. He even stamped his foot. Yes, his will was strong!
And on that night he did not return to his bed. He unrolled the Torah in the light of the candle and sat down to study. He knew that the form of the beautiful woman had not yet vanished. He needed but to close his eyes and he could see her. He needed but to turn his head away from the sacred scroll and he would behold her, feel her presence distinctly. But he was calm. He knew that he would conquer in the struggle with the vision, which came from the Evil One. She would disappear. And his voice, as it intoned the holy passages, was touching.
III
The following morning he went into the wilderness, into the desert of Judea. He said that he desired to be all alone after the excitement of the previous day; far from human beings and his own affairs he wished to take account of his deeds: it was already high time he did so, for he was very old. He went into the desert, however, in reality to fast and to torture his body in combat against a desire that comes from Satan. He went barefoot over the burning sand, on jagged rocks and through thorns, under the scorching rays of a July sun, without food or drink, granting himself no rest. Yet the beautiful Athaliah hovered still before him and behind. Many a time he cast himself to earth, groaning frightfully. Not from fatigue, not from hunger or thirst, however, but from despair. Why did she not disappear? He beat his heart and tore at his breasts. “Lord God, why drivest Thou not from me this visitation from Satan!”