“I do not express any opinion,” said the Greek, “as to the justice of this man’s cause. We have not at present the means for judging that. But, unless all the usual marks fail, this is a case of genuine distress; and one that is not likely to be helped by a resort to the courts. The man confesses that he has been imprudent. Besides, he is too poor to bear the expense of a suit. And if he could, a suit would probably be in vain. When the weak contend with the powerful, the weak must go to the wall. So, rightly or wrongly, the poor man will lose his debt; his family will suffer, and he will be in danger of losing all heart by losing in his old age the labor of years. I propose that we help him. The sum lost, though large to him, would not be large to us. A small contribution from each of us will set him on his feet again. Who of you will join me in making it, perhaps in righting a great wrong?”
And, stepping forward, he laid a piece of gold on the bench where the Phenician had sat. Aleph rose and put another by the side of it. Hassan promptly came up and did the same. The example was followed by others, until at last Aleph, coming forward and examining the amount contributed, pronounced it quite sufficient to cover the loss. He handed the sum to the Phenician.
The man seemed for a moment almost bewildered as he received it. He then fell on his knees and thanked his gods in a few trembling words; then springing to his feet, he lifted up his voice and wept. At last he found words and composure enough to say to the people:
“My friends, you have saved me. I was ready to die; would gladly have died a few moments ago; but now I can live, because my family can. I bless you in the name of my little children. You may be sure that you have not helped a rogue; the facts are as I have given them. Before the gods I am an honest man, though I could not prove it before your judges. Again I thank you; and,” turning to Cimon and Aleph, “especially these two friends, who, though strangers to me, have this day stood between me and ruin. If Sansciano ever forgets them, may....”
Here he fairly broke down, and suddenly turning to one of the pillars that supported the piazza, buried his face in his hand.
The sudden night of Egypt was now upon them, and the torches began to flame. After exchanging a few more words with the Phenician, the two friends withdrew to their rooms; but not before they had caught glimpse of a Roman uniform entering the little office near the gate of the court. Did it give them any uneasiness? I hope not. Borrowing trouble is poor business. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. And then, is there not a shield broad as the heavens above the good? Trust it, ye strangers, and go to sleep—if ye are indeed good.
Are they good men? For one, I am inclined to believe in them. Not so much because of their good looks, as because they look good. Not so much from what they have said and done during the few hours of our acquaintance with them, as from a certain—well, let the word be written, though deservedly somewhat unpopular of late—intuition. There is something wonderfully prepossessing in the look of both these strangers. It is hard to say what that something is that so bespeaks confidence, but that it exists and speaks mightily there is no denying—at least by me. I seem to look right through those frank and fearless yet kind eyes into noble souls. It may be only a seeming. I shall not attempt to justify myself to the philosophers. If they choose to remind me that appearances are sometimes deceptive; that virtue is often very cleverly imitated; in short, that old proverbs declare that “All is not gold that glitters,” and that “Fair outsides often cover foul insides,” I have nothing to say against it. I shall not argue the case with them. They would have the best of it from the arguing stand-point. Intuitions cannot be defended. So I will do nothing but express a modest opinion that such well-appearing people will turn out as good as they look. Even this, no doubt, will look sufficiently foolish to some; and should they conclude to suspend judgment as to the character of Cimon and Aleph till they have seen more of them in the progress of the narrative, I shall not complain. They are acting sensibly—as the world goes. They certainly are on very safe ground. “By their fruits ye shall know them” is a maxim whose authority cannot be controverted. And if, in the application of this maxim, they shall discover that the two strangers are no better than they should be, or as bad as the worst, I can only hang my head in confusion, and confess that the logic of experience is better than intuition—my intuition.