Deborah: A tale of the times of Judas Maccabaeus. James M. Ludlow
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"Your father shall have honorable interment. I have secured from Apollonius the order that he be buried in the sepulchre of his fathers. With your brother's sickness and the hazard to your life and that of Caleb, I ask your permission that I may be his mourner."
"My thanks, good sir. And my father's God will bless you."
Still Dion lingered, until Deborah herself said:
"Captain Dion, you must go away. This house is no place for a Greek."
"Nay, it is the place for such a Greek as I. Let me help you. Tell me your desire, and it shall be done."
Deborah did not look at her companion. Advancing to the centre of the court where the sun gleamed fairly upon her, she raised her hand. It was not now the attitude of defense from danger such as Dion had seen before. It was not that of daring which had cowed the besotted Apollonius. It was that of supreme spiritual exaltation. It seemed to enlarge her physical form and to transfigure her countenance with the strong glow of inner light. Dion had seen the priestesses of almost every shrine among his own and foreign peoples, but nothing so august as this self-ordination of the Jewish maiden to her mysterious service, as she said in suppressed tones:
"Now, O God of my father, I will fulfill my vow! Lead Thou whither Thou wilt. Guide me as Thou hast all true sons and daughters of Israel. Amen!"
Then her eyes rested a moment upon Dion's. A faint smile, or rather the slightest yielding of the rigidness of her alabaster features, denoted a not unkind recognition. If her voice was softened, it lost no tone of determination as she repeated:
"You must go away. I shall need no further help."
"You know not what you say," replied Dion eagerly. "You are utterly helpless here. Your brother's name will not save you one moment from the danger which I know will follow you. You must flee. Can you conceal yourself for a little while? I will return with the dress of a Greek woman, and in that disguise I can take you to a place of safety."
"Nay, go you and bury my father," said she.
"Promise me that you will not pass into the street."
"I will not go—into the street."
"The gods be praised!" cried Dion. He seized her hand, and before she could withdraw it had pressed it to his lips. Then he hastened away.
Caleb had been a silent auditor of all this. Now he ran to his sister's side.
"Not with the Greek, Deborah, with me. You said, only, 'Not into the street'."
"Yes, I will go with you, child. And may your blind eyes see the way of the Lord!"
She passed into the chamber where Benjamin lay. The leech had pronounced his healing sure, though he was not yet recovered from his stupor. Deborah softly imprinted a kiss upon her brother's forehead. She glanced at the familiar objects in the apartment, most of which were sacred with memories. At length her eyes rested upon a little ivory shrine of the Greek Aphrodite, a token of the new religion her brother had embraced. Then she fled from the desecrated chamber.
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