house at the head of a cohort; the legionaries burst the gate and rushed in and seized us. I have not seen my mother or sister since. I cannot say they are dead or living. I do not know what became of them. But, Malluch, the man in the chariot yonder was present at the separation; he gave us over to the captors; he heard my mother’s prayer for her children, and he laughed when they dragged her away. Hardly may one say which graves deepest in memory, love or hate. To-day I knew him afar—and, Malluch—"
He caught the listener’s arm again.
"And, Malluch, he knows and takes with him now the secret I would give my life for: he could tell if she lives, and where she is, and her condition; if she—no, they—much sorrow has made the two as one—if they are dead, he could tell where they died, and of what, and where their bones await my finding."
"And will he not?"
"No."
"Why?"
"I am a Jew, and he is a Roman."
"But Romans have tongues, and Jews, though ever so despised, have methods to beguile them."
"For such as he? No; and, besides, the secret is one of state. All my father's property was confiscated and divided."
Malluch nodded his head slowly, much as to admit the argument; then he asked anew, "Did he not recognize you?"
"He could not. I was sent to death in life, and have been long since accounted of the dead."
"I wonder you did not strike him," said Malluch, yielding to a touch of passion.
"That would have been to put him past serving me forever. I would have had to kill him, and Death, you know, keeps secrets better even than a guilty Roman,"
The man who, with so much to avenge, could so calmly put such an opportunity aside must be confident of his future or have ready some better design, and Malluch’s interest changed with the thought; it ceased to be that
