“Imposter! Juggler!” screamed the Jewess; “you boast to cure? Call my husband’s spirit back from Sheol, if you may.”
In their rage they would have wrung the wizard’s neck. Isaiah interposed. “You alone are to blame, Joram—you, false Jew, who have forsaken the faith of your fathers! Jehovah justly requites you. How long have you forgotten our law forbidding dealings with wizards and necromancers? I heard the rumour of Saruch’s state, and hastened hither with Urtasen to forestall this viper,”—with a glance toward Gudea,—“but the Most High ordained that I should come late, and you all be dealt with after your sins.”
“No more! On my father’s soul, no more!” Joram was moaning, while his tears came fast.
“You do well to weep,” was the stern retort; “but I have said enough. Now let these servants of the very fiends depart.”
Gudea had recovered his composure.
“Luckless people,” began he, “it was none other than the counter spells muttered by this Isaiah which ruined my incantation and gave victory to the demons. I accuse him of black magic and murder.”
But Gudea had lost all favour with the crowd. A guffaw answered him.
“Ha, scoundrel!” yelled twenty, “do not cover your mummery!” And Khatin added, “Verily, friend, if any murderer needs speech with me, his name is Gudea.”
“Out with him!” roared all the onlookers, putting forth rough hands on Binit and her husband.
“No tumult; respect the dead!” implored Isaiah.