"I would that I knew, father."
"Then find out, and at once. If so, stay here. Become a Jew, an Arab, or what she bids you. Her answer will make Jerusalem either Elysium or Tartarus for you."
"But," replied Dion, "I would that you knew her. I may not tell her that my father left the city without caring to speak a word with her. Though she love me not, I have been too intimate in the house of Elkiah for so unkindly a departure."
"It shall be as you say," replied the General. "What women these Jews have! Dion—but no—I will not say it; for what slips down from the lips never climbs back again. Let us go again to the house of Elkiah. An old Greek never loses his gallantry. If your heart fails you, Dion, I will pay my own homage at her feet. Does that prick you? Come."
When they re-entered the court, Deborah had risen. She stood by the chair, holding Sirach's hands and gazing closely into his eyes. Hearing footsteps, and supposing them to be those of the servants, she did not turn to look, but cried:
"Quick! Help! Sirach is stricken. See! His eyes do not follow one. I fear he is dead. Sirach! Gideon! Alas, he does not hear."
The two men drew near. Deborah, absorbed with the face that was growing rigid, and with the hands that were becoming as lead in her grasp, did not recognize the visitors. Agathocles startled her. Forgetting that he was a stranger, and caught by sudden emotion, he exclaimed:
"By all the gods! It is Sirach, servant of Shattuck! How came this man here? Dion, tell me, knew you this man?"
Then, the first surprise past, the General made his obeisance to Deborah, as Dion announced his name:
"My father, General Agathocles, begs to salute the daughter of Elkiah before he leaves the city."