"Also, think of this. Your eyes and your ears are grown dull, Abraham, and perhaps your mind is misted also."
He had gone to the entrance into the patio and paused there to wait with a lifted head. Abraham followed and attempted to speak again, but the last cruel speech had crushed him. He went out on the terrace, and looking back saw that David had not a glance for him; so Abraham went feebly on.
"I have become as a false prophet," he murmured, "and I am no more regarded."
His life had long been in its evening, and now, at a step, the darkness of old age fell about him. From the margin of the lake he looked up and saw Connor ride to the patio.
David, at the entrance, clasped the hand of his guest while he was still on the horse and helped him to the ground.
"This," he said solemnly, "is a joyful day in my house."
"What's the big news?" inquired the gambler, and added: "Why so happy?"
"Is it not the day of your return? Isaac! Zacharias!"
They came running as he clapped his hands.
"Set out the oldest wine, and there is a haunch of the deer that was killed at the gate. Go! And now, Benjamin, did Shakra carry you well and swiftly?"