‘Abidan! I know him well, a valiant man, but a dreamer, a dreamer.’
‘A dreamer, sire! Believe me, a true son of Israel, and one whose faith is deep.’
‘Good Jabaster, we are all true sons of Israel. Yet let me have men about me who see no visions in a mid-day sun. We must beware of dreamers.’
‘Dreams are the oracles of God.’
‘When God sends them. Very true, Jabaster. But this Abidan and the company with whom he consorts are filled with high-flown notions, caught from old traditions, which, if acted on, would render government impracticable; in a word, they are dangerous men.’
‘The very flower of Israel! Some one has poisoned your sacred ear against them.’
‘No one, worthy Jabaster. I have no counsellor except yourself. They may be the flower of Israel, but they are not the fruit. Good warriors, bad subjects: excellent means, by which we may accomplish greater ends. I’ll have no dreamers in authority. I must have practical men about me, practical men. See how Abner, Asriel, Ithamar, Medad, see how these conform to what surrounds them, yet invincible captains, invincible captains. But then they are practical men, Jabaster; they have eyes and use them. They know the difference of times and seasons. But this Abidan, he has no other thought but the rebuilding of the temple: a narrow-souled bigot, who would sacrifice the essence to the form. The rising temple soon would fall again with such constructors. Why, sir, what think you, this same Abidan preached in the camp against my entry into what the quaint fanatic chooses to call “Babylon,” because he had seen what he calls a vision.’
‘There was a time your Majesty thought not so ill of visions.’
‘Am I Abidan, sir? Are other men to mould their conduct or their thoughts by me? In this world I stand alone, a being of a different order from yourselves, incomprehensible even to you. Let this matter cease. I’ll hear no more and have heard too much. To-morrow at council.’
The high priest withdrew in silence.