Sirach continued: "These arms carried the boy to the house of the noble Greek, always the friend of Nahum's daughter. This man suddenly disappeared from Alexandria, taking with him Sara and her child. I learned that they went into Macedonia; and that he might shield the repute of Sara he claimed her as his wife and the lad as his own son. Meanwhile I was in charge of the wealth of Shattuck my master.
"The property of my master in Alexandria was of great value. For many years—God is my witness—Gideon ben Sirach has guarded it. Not a shekel of it all has passed to others. Faithful men of our race have stood with me against those, high in the King's favor, who would have taken it. So long as the death of the child cannot be proved the estate remains. His death established, all will be alienated to the state, which in Alexandria means to those whose favor the King buys by granting them the liberty to rob whom they will.
"The child of Sara I have searched for far and wide. While the Greek lived he could not be induced to confess that he was not the lad's father. His pride and contumely for our race—no, I will not say such words—his love for the boy forbade it.
"When the noble Greek died a few years later, the child disappeared. I traced him to the court of Philip, where he was in waiting, and afterward, as he grew to be a man, to the camps of Perseus, and at last into the service of Antiochus. Wherever the armies of Syria have gone Gideon ben Sirach has followed, but with too slow a foot. When this new Antiochus—the Lord rot his bones!—poured his legions into our Holy Land, I pursued. But, as a Jew, I have been expelled from his camps—until now—the Lord's name be praised! My eyes behold the son of Shattuck."
Sirach reached his hands toward Dion to embrace him. The young man recoiled as if from defilement.
"Sirach is demented! Ha! ha! Dion a Jew! Dion ben Shattuck! Oho! But take no offence, friend, at my words. I have no doubt that Shattuck was more worthy of my paternity than I am of inheriting his shekels. But the whole thing is a dream of Sirach. His memory is as confused as his tracks have been while searching for his Dion. That I may have been taken for such a waif is quite possible, since I have been a homeless fellow—just the one to gather myths, as the crooked oak on Olivet draws flocks of wild pigeons to its dead boughs. But there is nothing in it. I am not your Dion, my good man, for all I like your story."
"Thou art not Dion? True, true," said Sirach, "thou art not Dion, because thou art Gershom; for so Sara, thy mother, called thee; for she said, 'He is a stranger amid a strange people,' as thy name Gershom signifies."
"Is there such a name among the Jews?" asked Dion. "I have never heard it. But what sign, Sirach, have you? I surely was never circumcised." He burst into laughter.
"Sign? Sign?" cried Sirach. "By the scar on thy forehead which my fingers felt when thou knelt, I know thee."
Dion was for the instant startled, and felt again amid his curled locks. At length he burst again into loud laughter.