She thought she had looked him frankly in the face, and that she had pronounced these words very calmly; she was unaware that she had blushed, that tears came into her eyes, and that her hand trembled in his.
Dion was more astute. Like an expert soldier he detected the favorable turn affairs had taken at this critical juncture, and sought words to press his advantage. But before he could speak Deborah had lapsed into reserve. Was it her woman's pride that felt somewhat of resentment? or was it the remnant of her former resolution which came as a forlorn hope to her rescue? She said:
"You, sir, should be with your soldiers; and I—I have much to think of."
"But pledge me, Deborah, that you will not go again to the army."
At this she stood erect and haughty, as a captive queen before her captor might have done. She forced severity into her tone:
"I am a Jewess, sir, and must not take orders from the enemy."
"I do not command, I entreat," replied Dion. "By your own God, Deborah, I swear to you that the slaughter of all the King's host is less to me than that harm should come to a hair of your head."
"A very pretty speech," rejoined Deborah, with simulated sarcasm, "but it is scarcely a speech befitting a Greek soldier. Is your faith like a helmet which can be changed at will, that you can swear by a stranger's god?"
"My faith! My faith!" exclaimed Dion. "We Greeks have no such faith as yours. But a single faith have I—that all gods are one, or rather, as your heroism has made me feel, that one God is all. The God of Israel is the God of all nations. That you have taught me. I have found my prophetess, if Israel has none."