“Yet we live, Miriam, and I believe that for none of the three of us is the end at hand. Well, you will not fly, either with me or without me?”
“No, I will not fly.”
“Then the time is here, and, having no choice, I must do my duty, leaving the rest to fate. If, perchance, I can rescue you afterwards, I will, but do not hope for such a thing.”
“Caleb, I neither hope nor fear. Henceforth I struggle no more. I am in other hands than yours, or those of the Jews, and as They fashion the clay so shall it be shaped. Now, will you bind me?”
“I have no such command. Come forth if it pleases you, the officers wait without. Had you wished to be rescued, I should have taken the path on which my friends await us. Now we must go another.”
“So be it,” said Miriam, “but first give me that jar of water, for my throat is parched.”
He lifted it to her lips and she drank deeply. Then they went. Outside the cloister four men were waiting, two of them those doorkeepers who had searched her in the morning, the others soldiers.
“You have been a long while with the pretty maid, master,” said one of them to Caleb. “Have you been receiving confession of her sins?”
“I have been trying to receive confession of the hiding-place of the Roman, but the witch is obstinate,” he answered, glaring angrily at Miriam.
“She will soon change her tune on the gateway, master, where the nights are cold and the day is hot for those who have neither cloaks for their backs nor water for their stomachs. Come on, Blue Eyes, but first give me that necklet of pearls, which may serve to buy a bit of bread or a drink of wine,” and he thrust his filthy hand into her breast.