"Say the heathen, 'The sacrifice shall cease on the altar of Jewry'? It shall not cease. I myself will be a sacrifice. God receive my offering!"
He raised his clenched hands above his head and stood an instant, glaring upon the bystanders like the incarnation of a curse. Then he strode with shaking steps to the side of the old altar, and before any one could stop him threw himself upon the stones. His frame quivered an instant as if a priest's knife were indeed turning in his heart. Soldiers lifted him, and flung him back upon the pavement.
The Jew had conquered. He had made his sacrifice to his God. Elkiah, the Nasi, the last of the Sanhedrin, was dead.
Deborah had essayed to follow her father when his captors took him from his house. A Greek officer seized her and forced her back.
"By all the gods of Greek and Jew, you shall not go!"
The speaker was Dion.
For a little her resolution seemed to yield before the imperiousness of her friend. But her spirit was as a Damascus blade which, suddenly bent, springs back into shape. With a wild cry, "I will go to my father; they shall not harm him!" she broke from Dion. His stronger arms regained her.
"You will not be harmed if you stay here," Dion said; "but both you and your father will perish if you go. None but I can save you, Deborah. By my love I entreat."