“It may be so,” answered Marcus, “but your merciful God will allow this maiden to be set up in the Forum at Rome and sold to the highest bidder. It would have been better that she perished on the gate Nicanor.”
“Perhaps this same God,” answered Ithiel with a faint smile, “will deliver her from that fate, as He has delivered her from many others. Now what do you seek, my lord Marcus?”
“I seek liberty, which hitherto you have refused to me, Ithiel. I must travel to Rome as fast as ships and horses can carry me. I desire to be present at that auction of the captives. At least, I am rich and can purchase Miriam—unless I am too late.”
“Purchase her to be your slave?”
“Nay, to be my wife.”
“She will not marry you; you are not a Christian.”
“Then, if she asks it, to set her free. Man, would it not be better that she should fall into my hands than into those of the first passer-by who chances to take a fancy to her face?”
“Yes, I think it is better,” answered Ithiel, “though who am I that I should judge? Let the Court be summoned and at once. This matter must be laid before them. If you should purchase her and she desires it, do you promise that you will set her free?”
“I promise it.”
Ithiel looked at him strangely and said: “Good, but in the hour of temptation, if it should come, see that you do not forget your word.”