“So says the book of your Law, but mine tells me otherwise. Well, child, if you believe it and are afraid, begone with your friends, the Christians, and leave me to meet this storm alone.”
“I do believe it,” she answered quietly, “but I am not afraid.”
“That is strange,” he said, “since you must then believe also that you will come to a cruel death, which has terrors for the young and fair.”
“Not so, grandfather, for this same writing promises that in these troubles not one of us Christians shall perish. It is for you that I fear, not for myself, who will go where you go, and bide where you bide. Therefore, once more, and for the last time, I pray you to be wise and fly—who otherwise must be slain”; and as Miriam said the words her blue eyes filled with tears.
Benoni looked at her and for a moment his courage was shaken.
“Of your book I take no account,” he said, “but in the vision of your pure spirit I am tempted to believe. Perhaps the things that you foresee will happen, so, child, fly. You will not lack an escort and I can give you treasure.”
She shook her head. “I have said that I will not go without you.”
“Then I fear that you here must bide, for I will not leave my wealth and home, even to save my life, and still less will I desert my people in their holy war. Only, Miriam, if things fall out ill for us, remember that I entreated you to depart, and do not reproach me.”
“That I shall never do,” she answered, smiling, and coming to the old man kissed him tenderly.
So they abode on in Tyre, and a week later the storm burst.