“That, I trust, will not be soon?” said Rachel, with a startled look.
“As soon as these trials are fairly over, I suppose.”
“What!” she exclaimed with a look of dismay, “I thought you would remain a long time, studying our institutions, enlarging your knowledge of the Western World, especially getting an inside view of our University life and teachings. Be persuaded to remain—a long, very long time. Seti had rather lose all the rest of the University. I do not think he could be persuaded to part with you at all. And I think,” she stammered, “all your friends here feel very much the same.”
He replied, “My father did not propose for me a long stay in this city. Through my Greek preceptor I was already considerably acquainted with the matters you mention. They have been merely collaterals to two main purposes—which were, first, to learn what could be learned about the Messiah who, as my father believed, was born at Bethlehem some thirty years ago; and, second, to investigate the proceedings of Malus. As side issues my father wished me to get such improvement as a young man might from seeing the world, and from being under the necessity of judging and acting for himself among all sorts of men and under all sorts of conditions. And as soon as the great objects of my visit could be accomplished he wished me to return. I am an only child: the father wishes to see his son, and the son wishes to see the father. And if I can return through Judea and see the Messiah, and carry away from him to my parents a blessing, I shall consider my mission accomplished. But it will cost me something—very much indeed—to go away, even though it be homeward. I never expected to find such friends in Alexandria as I have found; and, as the day approaches for me to say farewell to them, I find I am approaching one of the greatest trials of my life. What wonderful kindness they have shown the nameless stranger who could not, consistently with his father’s wishes, furnish the commonest letter of introduction! And what delightful hours have I spent in this house with one whose views and feelings on the most important of all subjects have harmonized so completely with my own! Yes, it will cost me much to go away—I did not know how much till I received yesterday a letter of recall from my father (his lip quivered); and I doubt whether I have even now a full sense of the bitterness that will come in saying last words. But, if they must be said, it is doubtless better that they be said a week hence than at some remoter time. I feel that my heart is less and less under my control with every passing day. You see (he added with a sad smile) that, if there were no other reasons, I must go away to escape from you: Rachel is too mighty for Aleph the Chaldean. When one cannot conquer it is best to leave the field.”
“Flight is disgraceful,” exclaimed Rachel with sparkling eyes. “Better die on the field. But I will be merciful to my captive. He shall live.”
“To be dragged at your chariot wheels—to grace the triumph of her at whose feet lies the empire of the West?” He rose.
She also rose and came toward him. “You are quoting; or you are thinking of a distant somebody of whom you have heard and whom you have despised. Surely you are not thinking of me. It is true, if I must say it, that I have been offered the Roman purple in the person of the heir-apparent; and that to-day the elders of my people have been here to urge my acceptance of the proposals—for the public good. I listened to what they had to say and was silent—following the counsel of my grandfather. But to you I will not be silent. I have never seen Germanicus, and never want to see him. The empire of the West will have to wait long at my feet before I take it up. I will have none of it. I had rather die.”
She hesitated a moment and then went on, while a celestial blush spread a new loveliness over every feature, “So you see that you need not go away to escape from me. The daughter of Alexander was glad, beyond measure, to hear that she was beloved by Aleph the Chaldean. She accepts his love and gives him as large in return.”
Even Aleph could be transfigured. And it was nothing less than a transfiguration that now took place in his face at this frank declaration. Rachel had seen that face in many moods of thoughtfulness, watchfulness, resolve, pity, gratitude, command; but she had never before seen it radiant with joy. Now she saw it—wonderingly and blissfully saw it. All the flood gates of the morning seemed suddenly opened in his face. Such eloquence beamed upon her from that illuminated page that she needed no voice to interpret it. But a voice came—with a curious accent of surprise and inquiry.