He thought that I tried to save you from the wrath of the Sanhedrim; he thought that I----" "Let be what he thought," interrupted Miriam, "and, friend Caleb, do your office.

When we were children together often you tied my hands and feet with flowers, do you remember?
Well, tie them now with cords, and make an end." "You are cruel," he said, wincing.
"Indeed! some might have thought that you are cruel.

If, for instance, they had heard your words in that tower last night when you gave up my name to the Jews and linked it with another's." "Oh! Miriam," he broke in in a pleading voice, "if I did this--and in truth I scarcely know what I did--it was because love and jealousy maddened me." "Love?
The love of the lion for the lamb! Jealousy?
Why were you jealous?
Because, having striven to murder Marcus--oh! I saw the fight and it was little better, for you smote him unawares, being fully prepared when he was not--you feared lest I might have saved him from your fangs.

Well, thanks be to God! I did save him, as I hope.

And now, officer of the most merciful and learned Sanhedrim, do your duty." "At least, Miriam," Caleb went on, humbly, for her bitter words, unjust as they were in part, seemed to crush him, "at least, I strove my best for you to-day--after I found time to think." "Yes," she answered, "to think that other lions would get the lamb which you chance to desire for yourself." "More," he continued, taking no note.