Marsyas recalled his history for evidence to corroborate this hope that Saul's calamitous work might recoil upon him. From Prometheus to Augustus, the declaration was sustained. He lost sight of the rabbi's actual concern. Saul covered his horizon; he could not know that Eleazar looked upon the Pharisee as only a detail in an immense stretch of grave possibilities.
The young man made no reply. A hope had been snatched from him that night before his sense could grasp its reality, but the disappointment had not weakened his intent. His hope, for the moment centered upon the Nazarenes, turned again upon Agrippa. He did not permit himself to speculate on the prince's possible failure.
At an intersecting street they parted, without further plan than that they should meet again.
But the next morning when Marsyas came with little spirit into the sunless counting-room, his first visitor was Agrippa's lugubrious old courier, Silas.
With a cry, Marsyas wrenched open the wicket and seized the old man's shoulders.
"Dost thou bring good or evil news?" he cried, unable to wait on the slow servant's deliberate speech.
"Perchance either, or both," the courier answered, fumbling in the wallet for his written instructions. "Perchance that which thou already knowest, and that which may be news. At least, I fetch thee a ransom."
"God reward thee for thy fidelity," Marsyas replied, "and forget thy sloth! Here, let me help thee to thy message."
He put away the servant's inflexible fingers and wrested the parchment from the wallet. It was wrapped in silk and sealed with wax. It was directed to Marsyas. He ripped it open hastily and read:
"To Marsyas, the Essene, to whom Cypros the Herod would owe a greater debt, greeting and these: