Agathocles took from her words more than she had meant.
"O Gideon! Gideon! why were not your lips stricken dumb before they had uttered it?"
He shook the dead body in anger. "Gideon, you gave me my boy. Why did you steal him away from me?"
He turned back and paced the court in his excitement. Suddenly he stopped before Dion.
"Now I know why you would be a Jew. It was because you knew that you are one. But I swear by all the gods! I swear by the memory of my sweet Agnes! Dion, you are mine. Sirach lied to you. Believe him not. Dion, you are my boy."
He held the young man fast as he would some captive seeking to escape.
"And ever shall be yours, my father," replied Dion.
"Father? Say it again, Dion. That is a sweet word from your lips—sweet as were the kisses of your mother. Swear to me, Dion, that not even Gideon's story shall separate us."
"I swear it by Sirach's corpse that you are my father, and ever shall be."
"Well, then"—taking Dion's cheeks between his hands—"then believe Sirach. He has spoken the truth."