'The peace of the Lord go with you!'-- your last words.

'The gods keep you!' I said.

Do you remember?
How many years have passed since then ?" "Five," answered the Jew, gazing into the water.
"Well, you have reason to be thankful to--whom shall I say?
The gods?
No matter.

You have grown handsome; the Greeks would call you beautiful--happy achievement of the years! If Jupiter would stay content with one Ganymede, what a cup-bearer you would make for the emperor! Tell me, my Judah, how the coming of the procurator is of such interest to you." Judah bent his large eyes upon the questioner; the gaze was grave and thoughtful, and caught the Roman's, and held it while he replied, "Yes, five years.

I remember the parting; you went to Rome; I saw you start, and cried, for I love you.
The years are gone, and you have come back to me accomplished and princely--I do not jest; and yet--yet--I do wish you were the Messala you went away." The fine nostril of the satirist stirred, and he put on a longer drawl as he said, "No, no; not a Ganymede--an oracle, my Judah.
A few lessons from my teacher of rhetoric hard by the Forum--I will give you a letter to him when you become wise enough to accept a suggestion which I am reminded to make you--a little practise of the art of mystery, and Delphi will receive you as Apollo himself.