"Punishment!" said I. "What! would you be punished?"
"Punished!" said the Kohen. "That, of course, would be inevitable. I should be esteemed an unnatural monster and the chief of criminals. My lot in life now is painful enough; but in this case my punishment would involve me in evils without end. Riches would be poured upon me; I should be raised to the rank of Kohen Gadol; I should be removed farther away than ever from the pauper class—so far, indeed, that all hope in life would be over. I should be made the first and noblest and richest in all the land."
He spoke these words just as if he had said, "the lowest, meanest, poorest, and most infamous." It sounded like fresh mockery, and I could not believe but that he was amusing himself at my expense.
"This is cruel," said I. "You are mocking me."
"Cruel?—cruel?" said he; "what is cruel? You mean that such a fate would be cruel for me."
"No, no," said I; "but alas! I see we cannot understand one another."
"No," said the Kohen, musingly, as he looked at me. "No, it seems not; but tell me, Atam-or, is it possible that you really fear death—that you really love life?"
"Fear death!—love life!" I cried. "Who does not? Who can help it? Why do you ask me that?"
The Kohen clasped his hands in amazement.
"If you really fear death," said he, "what possible thing is there left to love or to hope for? What, then, do you think the highest blessing of man?"