Oh, lowest wile of woman, to take the World's Salvation as her bait to gain so base an end!
"Perchance this woman seeketh to believe," he said to himself, and suffered her to lead him across the dewy grass to a marble seat beneath a palm that waved gently hither and thither in the evening breeze.
Then, with one hand on the back of the marble seat and the other resting on her knee, she turned towards him. "Thinkest thou, noble Lazarus, that this is indeed the Christ? For if thou dost, methinks I must needs think so too, for thou art learned and well versed in His sayings."
"Oh, if thou wouldst but believe!" said Lazarus, in his intense wish to instil into her some of his own faith turning and looking straight at her, his face burning with heavenly fire.
"Look not at me thus, Lazarus," she said.
"Forgive me, I thought of naught but of how deeply I would that thou didst believe," he answered somewhat brusquely.
"What matters it to thee whether I believe or not?" she retorted bitterly.
"It mattereth to Him," he answered, "for without His knowledge not one sparrow falleth to the ground. It mattereth to me, because I would win all souls to Him for their own sakes."
"And to win my soul what wouldst thou do, most noble Lazarus?" And she looked searchingly into his face with her great eyes.
Her deep voice stirred Lazarus strangely, her words seemed to cut the clear air and throb there, as if with expectation.
