“Surely you cannot be so old,” interrupted Marcus. He made it a rule to be polite to all women, whatever their colour, having noticed that life went more easily with those who were courteous to the sex.
Nehushta smiled a little as she answered—for at what age does a woman learn to despise a compliment?—“Lord, they both died young”; then repeated, “This maiden is the only child of the high-born Græco-Syrian of Tyre, Demas, and his noble wife, Rachel——”
“I know Tyre,” he interrupted. “I was quartered there till two months ago”; adding in a different tone, “I understand that this pair no longer live.”
“They died,” said Nehushta sadly, “the father in the amphitheatre at Berytus by command of the first Agrippa, and the mother when her child was born.”
“In the amphitheatre at Berytus? Was he then a malefactor?”
“No, sir,” broke in Miriam proudly; “he was a Christian.”
“Oh! I understand. Well, they are ill-spoken of as enemies of the human race, but for my part I have had to do with several Christians and found them very good people, though visionary in their views.” Here a doubt struck him and he said, “But, lady, I understand that you are an Essene.”
“Nay, sir,” she replied in the same steady voice, “I also am a Christian, who have been protected by the Essenes.”
He looked at her with pity and replied, “It is a dangerous profession for one so young and fair.”
“Dangerous let it be,” she said; “at least it is mine from the beginning to the end.”