In one swift glance, which more was of the mind
Itself, perceiving as it were without
Organ, than of the eye with which it saw,
Stephen that night, upon the point of time
When Shimei was arrested and brought in,
A glimpse had caught of two receding forms
Of men upon the street, flying as seemed;
Whom instantly he knew to be the same
With that pair of conspirators to slay,
Whose whispers had revealed their plot to him:
These were the stout young fellows Shimei set
To lie in wait for the escaping Paul.
The moment they beheld their master seized,
They quickly had betaken them to flight;
But Stephen's mind flew faster than their feet,
And with intangible tether had them bound.
This his new observation of the twain
Made him secure of recognizing them
Whenever or wherever seen again.
With so much clue as this, no more, in hand,
To guide him in the quest of testimony
That might his crimes bring home to Shimei—
Supposed still safe in keeping at the fort—
Stephen his audience with the chiliarch sought.
The bright hope that he brought in coming, sprung
From grateful recollection of the grace
He found, that morning, in the Roman's eyes,
Was promptly damped to deep dejection now.
The chiliarch met him with a cold and sour
Severity of aspect that repelled,
Beyond the youth's capacity—unbuoyed,
For this occasion, with approving sense
Of well-advised attempt at least, if vain—
To front it with unruffled brow. Abashed
He stood, confused; the blood rushed to his face;
His tongue clung to his mouth's roof; and in all
He less looked like that youthful innocence
Which won the Roman so in his soft mood,
Than like the conscious guilt, uncovered now,
In Shimei's slant insinuation shown.
The chiliarch by reaction was relapsed
Into his sternest temper of disdain
Embittered by suspicious cynicism;
Apt sequel of the interview prolonged
With Shimei, and the final passionate
Ejection of that Hebrew from the fort.
He now awaiting Shimei, summoned back
Once more, to be to Cæsarea sent,
Here was that Stephen—despicable he
Too, doubtless, like his despicable race!
Such was the prompt involuntary set,
Inhospitable, of the chiliarch's thought,
For welcome of the youth before him there.
To Stephen's stammering words about those men,
And how they might be made to testify
Of Shimei's desperate plot to murder Paul,
Thus bringing Shimei to deservéd doom,
The Roman tartly said: "Aye, aye, young sir,
I think it like, seems altogether like.
You Jews could, all of you, I doubt not, swear
Of one another, brethren as ye be,
Things damnable enough to crucify
Ye all, and, what is more, for just that once,
Swear true! But thanks, lad, I have had my fill
At present of these proffered services."
The manner was dismissory, more even
Than were the words, and Stephen bowed to go.
But his own manner in thus bowing changed,
Although he spoke not, to such dignity,
Recovered from his discomposure late,
So instantly recovered, and so pure—
Adulterate in no trace with hardihood—
A dignity comportable with youth,
While eloquent of virtue and high mind,
And, like a robe, so beautifully worn
Over a person and a gesture fair,
That Claudius Lysias, cynic as he was
That moment, seeing could not but admire.
He, on the point to bid the youth remain,
Wavering, not quite persuaded,—at the door,
Bowing his different bow, stood Shimei;
That sight and contrast fixed his wavering mind.
"Stay thou, my lad," abruptly he exclaimed—
Wherewith another fall the countenance fell
Of Shimei, cringing, to his footsteps glued.
"Look ye on one another, ye two Jews,"
The chiliarch in a sudden humor said;
"I have a fancy I should like to see
How two reciprocal accusers such
As you are, rogues both—though one young, one old,
In roguery—if your mutual witness hold—
I say, the fancy takes me to observe
How two accusers of each other, like
Yourselves, confronted in close quarters thus,
Will severally enjoy each other's stare."
An indescribable something in the tone
Of Claudius Lysias speaking thus, or look
Perhaps, couched in the eye or on the face
Playing, signified clear to Shimei
That the same words were differently meant
To Stephen and to him; spoken to him
In earnest, in but pleasantry to Stephen.
Stephen's high air, in proud sense of his worth
Wronged by misdoubt, had Shimei led astray.
He saw it as a sign of prosperous suit—
Doubtless against himself—just finished there.
Already tuned to fear, his conscious mind,
Quite disconcerted by this fresh surprise
Of some detection that he could not guess,
Suddenly wrote abroad on all his mien
A patent full conviction of himself.
As more and more his heart misgave him, worse
Ever and worse his brow was discomposed.
The lively opposite of Shimei's change
Was meantime making Stephen's face more fair.
He, at the chiliarch's mating of himself
With Shimei, though in veriest raillery meant,
Felt all the soul of manliness in him
Stung to its most resistant; as he turned,
Obedient to the chiliarch's word, and looked
At Shimei, such transfigurement there passed
Upon him that he stood there glorified.
An infinite repellence seemed to ray
From out his eyes, and put impassable
Remove between him and that other, while
Ascendance, as peculiar to a race
And rank of being wholly different,
Endued him, like a natural right to reign.
Such kingly to such servile seen opposed,
Surprised the chiliarch into altered mood.
"Enough," said he; and, writing while those stayed,
He gave to Shimei what he wrote to read.
It was a letter Shimei should himself
Convey to Felix governor; it ran:
"Who brings this is a rascal, as I judge;
He comes to accuse the Jewish prisoner Paul.
Detain him, if thee please, to see the end;
The end should be perhaps a cross for him!"
Wincing, the miscreant read; he, reading, felt
Draw, from Rome's hand, the coil about his neck.
Choking for speech, he, ere he found it, heard
The chiliarch say, with voice hard like a flint:
"Thou hast thine errand; tarry not, but go.
Nay, bide a moment; let the youngster see
What message I have given thee to bear;
Then, if so chance thou lose it on the way,
He can supply thy lack of carefulness!"
His air that of the miser who, compelled,
Gives up gold hoarded, like his own heart's blood,
Shimei, with griping pangs, in sick recoil
Of grudging overmastered to submit,
Yielded, as if he were withholding it,
The hateful letter into Stephen's hand.
Stephen, as one not daring otherwise,
Deigned a reluctant look, that, seeking not,
Yet seized, the sense of that which Shimei showed;
Softened, he gave the parchment back to him.
Prodded with such oblique sarcastic spur
To heed of sinister commission such,
Shimei withdrew, a miserable man.
The chiliarch then to Stephen—who, at once
Pity of Shimei's utter wretchedness,
Shame of his utter abjectness, conceived—
Said, with changed tone: "My lad, I think thee true;
That miscreant vexed me into petulance.
Thou hast not altogether missed thy mark
In coming hither now, although I thus
Seem to let Shimei for the present slip.
Follow him, if thou wilt, to Cæsarea.
With letter of Bellerophon in charge,
He carries his own sentence thither hence;
Watch it—if slow in execution, sure!"