Naaman stared at the dejected figure with incredulity and growing displeasure. Why all this show of emotion over a benefit he had thought to confer? His kindness was misconstrued. His thoughtfulness was considered intrusive. He was defied and rebuked by a servant. Yet he might have expected ingratitude. It was the way of the world. He had imagined that Isaac was different, but he had been disillusioned. His tones held the sadness of disappointed hope.
“I had believed thou wert glad to serve me, Isaac, but thou art like the others: thou wouldst rather serve thyself. It is well that I should have learned this before making any mistake.”
With a disdainful gesture he turned from his one-time favorite. Isaac, shocked into full understanding of the mischief his tongue had wrought, dropped to the rear of the chariot and by degrees to the rear of the company, affecting not to see the curious and surprised glances with which his action was greeted by his companions. Lemuel rode forward hastily. Passing Isaac he leaned from his saddle, speaking in so low a voice that even the soldier nearest could not catch the words, much as he tried:
“Thou fool! Knowest thou not his imperious temper? Couldst thou not bear with his impatience? Thou shouldst have considered only the reward. Thou hast had thy chance and lost it. Next to thee he hath seemed to regard me with favor. Peradventure the opportunity thou hast thrown away will be mine. Behold, I go to do his bidding.”
He pushed his way to a place just behind the chariot, where he rode for a time, respectful and attentive. Naaman, saddened and perplexed by Isaac’s outburst, accepted Lemuel’s attentions with a certain degree of grateful appreciation which gradually became relief and even pleasure, and when evening fell, Lemuel’s tent was pitched next Naaman’s, in the very center of the encampment, while Isaac kept to the outer circle. The evening meal was long since eaten; the bustle of the camp had quieted into the soundlessness of night; not a figure moved among the dark tent-shapes and masses of camp paraphernalia. Even the pack-animals were quiet, but hour after hour Isaac lay awake.
The stars looked at him with far-off, unsympathetic faces. He was bitterly humiliated. Why had he so rashly thrown away his master’s favor? Why had he treated his future advancement as a child would lightly discard a withered flower? It was not merely of himself he should think, but what would Miriam say when she knew? The impetuous youth who had never faltered before a foe quailed now, in imagination, before the clear vision of a maid’s disapproval. And then the remedy flashed through his mind. Discarding it at first as absurd and impossible, he ended by weighing carefully reasons for and against. At last he rose and stealthily went for his tired horse. No watchman questioned his action or interfered, but the significance of this did not occur to him until afterward.
Leading the animal apart from the camp he stopped in the shadow of a great rock. He was facing the road which led to Damascus. A little farther along there crossed it the no less important highway which went down into Egypt. It was well known to every traveler and each twist and turn of it had been familiar to Isaac since his scouting days. He would have no difficulty finding his way. Egypt was his destination. There would he be a soldier. The ruling power was always anxious to recruit its forces with any foreigner willing to serve, and how much more would he be welcomed when it was known that his father had been an Egyptian!
Although the decision was made, the young man hesitated. To be a soldier for pay, and pay alone! To fight, not to defend the weak and repulse the strong but to uphold the quarrels of a master he should hate! To leave the impulsive, impatient but kindly and generous Naaman, the only master he had ever known! To cut himself off from jealous, loving Milcah and repudiate the home of his mother! Most of all, never to see the maid again! What would she think of this desertion? He shuddered at the word, yet it was that despicable thing—desertion of duty. He wavered an instant, then his face set into lines of bitterness. By whatever name it might be called it was necessary. Was he not already disgraced? Had he not foolishly and without just cause forfeited his master’s favor? Did he deserve or could he expect sympathy or even respect from Milcah and Miriam?
Still he did not start. Before his mind’s eye passed quickly a panorama of all his dreams, now brought to naught. Brushing a mist from his eyes he sighed and mounted the fiery little steed of the desert, once a gift from his master. Motionless he sat in the shadow, staring, for down the road, like a moving picture, came a band of mounted men. Was his dream coming true? Was this the phantom command he had often seen in imagination? And then he came back to realities with a start. His horse seemed to feel the suspicion which passed through his rider’s mind and was instantly alert, responsive, trembling slightly, but eager for the fray.
On the company came. There was no mistaking the camels and the armed men, though not a sound of their advance came to the sensitive horse and to the man who crouched in the shadows, listening. It was this silence which proclaimed their errand. They were robbers coming by night with the feet of their animals muffled, their object being no other than Naaman’s treasure, upon which they hoped to pounce while the camp slumbered, exhausted by a hard day’s travel. And then it occurred to Isaac for the first time that the watchmen should have seen and reported. He remembered that he had noticed no passing to and fro on the usual rounds. Was there a traitor within the camp? But he had no time for investigation. He lifted his face to the stars for an instant and through the cool stillness of the night sent a long, weird call.