“Mayhap, but I do not like such seats. Listen, Miriam, I will be great or die. I have thrown in my lot with the Jews, and when we have cast out the Romans I shall rule.”
“If you cast out the Romans, and if you live. Caleb, I have no faith in the venture. We are old friends, and I pray of you to escape from it while there is yet time.”
“Why, Miriam?”
“Because He Whom your people crucified and Whom I serve prophesied its end. The Romans will crush you, Caleb. His blood lies heavy upon the head of the Jews, and the hour of payment is at hand.”
Caleb thought a while, and when he spoke again the note of confidence had left his voice.
“It may be so, Miriam,” he said, “though I put no faith in the sayings of your prophet; but at least I have taken my part and will see the play through. Now for the second time I ask you to share its fortunes. I have not changed my mind. As I loved you in childhood and as a youth, so I love you as a man. I offer to you a great career. In the end I may fall, or I may triumph, still either the fall or the triumph will be worth your sharing. A throne, or a glorious grave—both are good; who can say which is the better? Seek them with me, Miriam.”
“Caleb, I cannot.”
“Why?”
“Because it is laid upon me as a birthright, or a birth-duty, that I should wed no man who is not a Christian. You know the story.”
“Then if there were no such duty would you wed me, Miriam?”