"Perchance, then, thou knowest Galilee," the Essene resumed after a short pause. "Galilee that sitteth between Phoenicia the menace and Samaria the pollution, and is not soiled; that standeth between the Middle Sea, the power, and the Jordan, the subject, and is not humbled. She is Israel's brawn, not easily governed of the mind which is enthroned Jerusalem.
"We are rustics in Galilee, tillers of the soil, mountaineers and fishers, simple rugged folk who live in the present, expecting miracles, seeing signs, discovering prophets and wonders. We are patriots, bound and hooped against an alien, but bursting wide with whatever chanceth to ferment within us. Let there but arise a Galilean who hath a gift or a grudge or a devil, and proclaim himself anointed, and he can gather unto himself a following that would assail Cæsar's stronghold, did he say the word."
He paused and seemed to recall what he had said.
"Yet, we are good Jews," he added hastily, "faithful followers of the Law and such as Israel might select to die singly for Israel's sake. No Galilean is ashamed of himself except when he permits himself to be led so far into folly that he can not turn back."
The Pharisee foresaw intuitively the young man's climax.
"The Law does not remit punishment for blasphemy, even if a soul turn back from its folly," he observed.
Marsyas' face became grave and he gazed at the place on the wall where quivered the reflection from the splendors of the Temple.
"Stephen is my friend," he said earnestly, "a simple soul, generous, fervid, and a true lover of God."
"If he be such, he is safe," Saul replied.
The young man fingered the scarf that girded him.