Οὺκ οῖα βούλεται τις, αλλ’ οῖα δύναται.Plato,Nipp. Mag.26.Not what one wishes, but what he can.1. News by the way.2. A commercial catechism.3. Python wide awake.4. No time to be lost.
Οὺκ οῖα βούλεται τις, αλλ’ οῖα δύναται.
Plato,Nipp. Mag.26.
Not what one wishes, but what he can.
Aleph found Cimon already at the khan; and, after giving an account of his own experiences, received the following from his friend.
Cimon went first to the khan they had just left for an article that had been forgotten, and to learn what he might of the ways of the neighboring custom house.
He found that he was yet considerably too early for the business hours of the chief official; and so lingered, making inquiries of the inn-keeper about the chief traders of the city, especially in the line of eastern goods. Who are they? Where are their places of business? How long have they been established? What reputations do they bear? These questions were freely answered—with some vagueness and reserve, however, as to the last of them; as was to be expected from a man who speaks about his neighbors to a stranger. Cimon found that Malus was by far the largest and most successful dealer in the city.
“How did that happen?”
“Well, you see, he has the most capital: so he has the best goods, the cheapest, and the greatest variety; and then his positions as harbor-master and farmer-general of all imports from the south give him special advantagesfor turning trade in his own direction. As harbor-master he is the first one to meet the owners of goods on their arrival, and can hasten or delay the passing through the custom house: as farmer of the duties he has less duty to pay than his rivals, even if he makes none of the illegal exactions with which some charge him. However this may be, it is certain that he has very great opportunities of befriending those who deal with him, andcanmake it for their interest to patronize him rather than others. People lay much stress on this. So he has crushed out many small dealers. Still, not a few manage to maintain themselves against him, though they make small profits where he makes large ones. There are yet many people who for various reasons prefer to go elsewhere than to Nos. 110, 111, 112 Emporium Street. We are among them”—and the man shrugged his shoulders.
Cimon took out his tablets and made some entries.
While he was doing this, who should come in but the Jew who had so curiously followed him from the synagogue! The man was surprised, and apparently delighted, to see Cimon. It appeared that he was a brother of the absent landlord, and had come to bring news of him to his family. He had left him in Judea a few days before, and expected that he would soon be able to return. He then turned to Cimon and inquired about his young companion of yesterday.
“That young man haunts me,” he said. “His face meets me everywhere; if I read, his features come between me and the papyrus; if some one enters my house I look up to see if it is not he; if I am walking in the street I forget my errand and look for him instead. Forexample, while on my way here I forgot what I was coming for, and found myself opposite the Diapleuston waiting for him to appear, and, had he appeared, no doubt I should have acted as ridiculously as I did yesterday.”
Cimon explained that they had seen occasion to remove to another part of the city; but were still proposing to seek him out and hear about the eastern pilgrims of whom he had spoken. Perhaps he would not object to give some particulars now—reserving to some future time, when his young friend could be with him, a fuller account. Could they not pass into the court and seat themselves where they would not be exposed to interruption?
The Jew readily consented: and this was the substance of his narrative.
When he was scarcely more than a boy there came to the khan on the east of the city, then kept by his father, a large caravan of eastern people, on their way home from Judea. It was led by three men—all remarkable for dignity of manner, richness of apparel, and other signs of great distinction, if not of princely rank. Two of them were old men; but old after the manner of Moses. Their eyes were as bright, their forms as erect, their steps as firm and elastic as one ever sees in the young. But the third was comparatively young: and a finer specimen of humanity in all respects the khan had never seen, though it had seen, first and last, a wide variety of people from all nations.
Ah, that young man knew how to walk—how to ride too! When he came and went, whether on foot or on his Arabian, the servants would run to every convenientoutlook to wonder at the easy grace and majesty of his movements.
On the arrival of the caravan the khan happened to be quite without guests. The pilgrims at once took all the vacant rooms, and remained several days in the city—examining it fully in every direction; its temples, palaces, harbors, markets, warehouses, manufactures, libraries, schools. They evidently were very devout persons; not as the idolaters are, but after the Hebrew manner. Every morning and evening they gathered all their servants, and read from copies of the Law and Prophets, and prayed most reverently to the Invisible; and on the Sabbath they went separately to the synagogues; and when they left the city they carried away with them many copies of the Greek Scriptures—also, it was said, a Greek young man, well taught in all the western learning and accomplishments, but who had lost his parents and other near relatives, and so had few ties to detain him here. This was what wassaid: the Jew could not vouch for it, as he had never seen the young Greek.
But these were not the most important facts about the pilgrims. Some in the caravan spoke the Greek language and the people of the inn used to listen with wonder to the story that gradually came to them.
For generations it had been widely understood in parts of the East that a great king would some day appear in Judea in whom all the families of the earth would be blessed. But lately it was revealed to each of the three chiefs that the birth of this king was about to take place, and that when it had taken place the fact would be signified to them by the appearance of a new star-like body in the western sky, and that on seeing itthey should journey westward to carry the homage and presents of the East to the new-born monarch. So they conferred together, made ready their caravans, and watched the heavens nightly for the promised sign.
At last it came. The day had faded away into the night, when lo, a glorious beam shot to the watchers, and they saw a great star hanging low in the west—a star wholly unlike the evening star, or any other star ever seen in that quarter of the sky. The signal was promptly and joyfully obeyed. Meeting at a place before agreed upon, the chiefs joined caravans and proceeded toward Judea—the star appearing and going before them whenever their journey needed special guidance. So at last they came to Bethlehem, where the meteor sank low and blazed over the house where a young child was. Then they knew that they had found the King; though it was in no palace, but in a very humble home bare of all but the barest necessaries.
Was it a beautiful child? Even as Moses, exceeding fair. Was he afraid of the bearded men as they kneeled before him and presented their gold and frankincense and myrrh? Not at all. There were the dawnings of a kingly repose and welcome in his eyes as he fearlessly stretched out his little hand and laid it on the thin white hairs and on the dense brown locks that were successively bowed low before him.
And then they heard of things even stranger than those they had themselves experienced. For the mother told them of angels who came to predict the Messiah and his forerunner: and many people of Bethlehem, attracted by the star and the stately caravan, came hastening up and told how their shepherds had seen and heardon the night of the Birth a glory of angels that shone and sang above them like a descending heaven, and sent them to a manger to find their long expected King.
The youngest of the three chiefs was so much impressed by the story of the shepherds that he put it into a song which some in the caravan learned and often chanted.
“Did you hear it?” interrupted Cimon.
“Yes: and our father would have us commit it to memory. I think that even now I can recite it word for word.”
“Please do so.”
The Jew, after a few moments of recollection, proceeded to recite as follows:
“No tongue can tell the sacred pomp,That swept from Heaven one day,And trailed its glory past the spheres,To where the Infant lay—Lift up your eyes in vast surprise,Ye shepherds, on the scene,And see the flaming forms that hang,The heavens and earth between!Upon their heads are golden crowns,Their robes are white as snow,Soft lightnings from their faces flashUpon the vale below;Before the glory of the LordThe stars turn pale and flee—Oh, what a sight that gracious nightFor shepherd swains to see!Through all the still and scented airThere comes a deeper calm,As if from fear lest it should hearNaught of the coming psalm:And now the air grows sweeter still;Slow beat the balmy wings;Clear o’er the mute and raptured earthThe choir of angels sings.Sings praises in the highest songThat highest Heaven can raise;Sings praises to the highest kingThat hears the voice of praise;To Him who to the earth descendsIn pity and in love,And o’er its warring tribes extendsThe white wings of the dove.And far across Judean hills,Swell out the storms of praise—I would that tempests such as thisMight gladden all my days!For lo, ’tis Paradise to hearThe glory of that sound,That swells so grandly to the skies,So humbly seeks the ground.Full many an age will vanish,Full many songs be given,But ne’er again such wondrous strainWill shake the arch of Heaven;And yet each year our hearts will seeA glory on the wing,And still each year our hearts will hearThat winged glory sing.And ever as we give our gifts,And deck our homes with green,Our souls will kindle in the blazeOf that strange midnight scene,And sing His praise in joyful lays,By whom the Child was given,Whose advent here sent mighty cheerThrough all the choirs of Heaven.”
“No tongue can tell the sacred pomp,That swept from Heaven one day,And trailed its glory past the spheres,To where the Infant lay—Lift up your eyes in vast surprise,Ye shepherds, on the scene,And see the flaming forms that hang,The heavens and earth between!Upon their heads are golden crowns,Their robes are white as snow,Soft lightnings from their faces flashUpon the vale below;Before the glory of the LordThe stars turn pale and flee—Oh, what a sight that gracious nightFor shepherd swains to see!Through all the still and scented airThere comes a deeper calm,As if from fear lest it should hearNaught of the coming psalm:And now the air grows sweeter still;Slow beat the balmy wings;Clear o’er the mute and raptured earthThe choir of angels sings.Sings praises in the highest songThat highest Heaven can raise;Sings praises to the highest kingThat hears the voice of praise;To Him who to the earth descendsIn pity and in love,And o’er its warring tribes extendsThe white wings of the dove.And far across Judean hills,Swell out the storms of praise—I would that tempests such as thisMight gladden all my days!For lo, ’tis Paradise to hearThe glory of that sound,That swells so grandly to the skies,So humbly seeks the ground.Full many an age will vanish,Full many songs be given,But ne’er again such wondrous strainWill shake the arch of Heaven;And yet each year our hearts will seeA glory on the wing,And still each year our hearts will hearThat winged glory sing.And ever as we give our gifts,And deck our homes with green,Our souls will kindle in the blazeOf that strange midnight scene,And sing His praise in joyful lays,By whom the Child was given,Whose advent here sent mighty cheerThrough all the choirs of Heaven.”
“No tongue can tell the sacred pomp,That swept from Heaven one day,And trailed its glory past the spheres,To where the Infant lay—Lift up your eyes in vast surprise,Ye shepherds, on the scene,And see the flaming forms that hang,The heavens and earth between!
“No tongue can tell the sacred pomp,
That swept from Heaven one day,
And trailed its glory past the spheres,
To where the Infant lay—
Lift up your eyes in vast surprise,
Ye shepherds, on the scene,
And see the flaming forms that hang,
The heavens and earth between!
Upon their heads are golden crowns,Their robes are white as snow,Soft lightnings from their faces flashUpon the vale below;Before the glory of the LordThe stars turn pale and flee—Oh, what a sight that gracious nightFor shepherd swains to see!
Upon their heads are golden crowns,
Their robes are white as snow,
Soft lightnings from their faces flash
Upon the vale below;
Before the glory of the Lord
The stars turn pale and flee—
Oh, what a sight that gracious night
For shepherd swains to see!
Through all the still and scented airThere comes a deeper calm,As if from fear lest it should hearNaught of the coming psalm:And now the air grows sweeter still;Slow beat the balmy wings;Clear o’er the mute and raptured earthThe choir of angels sings.
Through all the still and scented air
There comes a deeper calm,
As if from fear lest it should hear
Naught of the coming psalm:
And now the air grows sweeter still;
Slow beat the balmy wings;
Clear o’er the mute and raptured earth
The choir of angels sings.
Sings praises in the highest songThat highest Heaven can raise;Sings praises to the highest kingThat hears the voice of praise;To Him who to the earth descendsIn pity and in love,And o’er its warring tribes extendsThe white wings of the dove.
Sings praises in the highest song
That highest Heaven can raise;
Sings praises to the highest king
That hears the voice of praise;
To Him who to the earth descends
In pity and in love,
And o’er its warring tribes extends
The white wings of the dove.
And far across Judean hills,Swell out the storms of praise—I would that tempests such as thisMight gladden all my days!For lo, ’tis Paradise to hearThe glory of that sound,That swells so grandly to the skies,So humbly seeks the ground.
And far across Judean hills,
Swell out the storms of praise—
I would that tempests such as this
Might gladden all my days!
For lo, ’tis Paradise to hear
The glory of that sound,
That swells so grandly to the skies,
So humbly seeks the ground.
Full many an age will vanish,Full many songs be given,But ne’er again such wondrous strainWill shake the arch of Heaven;And yet each year our hearts will seeA glory on the wing,And still each year our hearts will hearThat winged glory sing.
Full many an age will vanish,
Full many songs be given,
But ne’er again such wondrous strain
Will shake the arch of Heaven;
And yet each year our hearts will see
A glory on the wing,
And still each year our hearts will hear
That winged glory sing.
And ever as we give our gifts,And deck our homes with green,Our souls will kindle in the blazeOf that strange midnight scene,And sing His praise in joyful lays,By whom the Child was given,Whose advent here sent mighty cheerThrough all the choirs of Heaven.”
And ever as we give our gifts,
And deck our homes with green,
Our souls will kindle in the blaze
Of that strange midnight scene,
And sing His praise in joyful lays,
By whom the Child was given,
Whose advent here sent mighty cheer
Through all the choirs of Heaven.”
There were tremblings on the tongue of the Jew as he closed his low chant, and tears in the eyes of the Greek; but the latter said nothing for a few moments, and then merely asked that the narrative might proceed. So the Jew resumed.
The chiefs would willingly have lingered long in Bethlehem; but the same Divine Word that had brought them almost immediately sent them away. The next night the message came, “Let them return—and return by another way.” So they returned by way of Egypt and the Red Sea.
Shortly after the pilgrims had left Alexandria, news came that Herod, in a fit of jealousy, had massacred all the male children in Bethlehem under two years of age. It was like him. Everybody believed the story. But could it be that the Messiah of whose triumphs and reign so many prophets, in so many ways, had spoken, had perished in his infancy? Could the promises of God be broken by the cruelty of man? Was Herod strong enough to defeat the Almighty?
The khan had hardly begun to ask these questions before there appeared at its gate a man leading an ass, on which was seated a young woman who carried in her arms a little boy. The mother was interesting—the boy was wonderful. Never had the landlord seen such a child. It was not merely that he was comely in the highest degree—it was the mystery of expression in his face. As one looked on it nothing seemed too good or great to be believed of him. His body seemed a thin veil through which flashes of inexhaustible treasures of wisdom and goodness and power were continually struggling. You who have seen a light shining through thinalabaster—you who have seen a gem in whose heart rainbows seemed imprisoned—you who have seen a soft, white cloud around whose edges have crept suggestions of an intolerable glory within and behind, can have some idea of how that wonderful Child impressed the people of the khan. By degrees they learned that the family had come from Bethlehem, that fear of Herod was the cause of their leaving, that the eastern princes had been under their roof—at last, when confidence was full-grown and all reserve thrown away, that they had among them the very Star-Child to which the journeying East had brought its loyal homage and tribute.
It was strange to see the mixture of tenderness and awe with which the mother dealt with her son—strange to see the mixture of weakness and power, of humbleness and superiority, of dependence and independence with which the son dealt with his mother. At one moment it seemed as if she was acting the part of a Providence to him; at another as if he was acting the part of a Providence to her.
The house was a different house from the time that Jesus (for such was his name) entered it. A new element had come into its air; a new light seemed to rest on every object; never had its inmates found it so easy to pray and lead a good life. It was as if a new life had silently come under their own; and, like a broad wave, was lifting it heavenward. The eyes of Jesus, from their fathomless depths, seemed to invite to all that was holy and to forbid all that was sinful.
But even Alexandria was too near Herod. So, after the sacred family had well rested from their journey, they went still farther south. It was a sad day for thekhan when they went away. The host would take nothing in the way of compensation—save a smile from the young mother and a touch from the child for each child of his. How that touch thrilled them through and through as with some mysterious healing! They think they can feel it to-day.
The khan kept its secret. After a while news came that the Holy Family went as far as Mantaréëh, and remained there till the death of Herod, when they returned to their own country. After that, ears were kept wide-open toward Judea; for it could not be thought that such a beginning would end in nothing—that man and circumstance would be allowed to defeat God.
But the waiting was long. Ten years passed, twenty years, almost thirty, and yet no further news came of Jesus. The khan was sorely puzzled. It knew not what to think. Yet it still clung to faith and hope. At last it began to hear vaguely of strange excitements and movements in Judea. The eyes and ears of the whole family turned in that direction as never before. And soon they learned that a great reformer had burst suddenly on the people from the wilderness—austere, fearless, mighty of speech, smiting the sins of high and low with the sword of his mouth, baptizing, followed by immense crowds, who inquired, Is not this the Christ?
And this, too, was the question that was asked at the gate of Canopus. But they reflected that, according to the prophets, Christ must have a forerunner of just this Elijah-like character; and so they were prepared to hear, as they soon did, that the reformer’s name was John the son of Zacharias, and that he distinctly toldthe people that he was not the Christ, only his forerunner. Then came rumors of Another; at first low-voiced and vague, then more distinct and emphatic—that John had introduced him to the people as the Greater One for whom he had been preparing the way; then that John himself had been slain by Herod; then that the new prophet whose name was Jesus was drawing the multitudes after him by a sublime teaching and a course of miracles such as had not been seen since the days of Moses, if ever. Of course the Alexandrian friends then felt sure that they had recovered the long lost Child. The king of whom they had heard from the Chaldean sages, whose star had conducted that most memorable of all pilgrimages, and whose sublime childhood they had been permitted to look in upon, as by a window into heaven, was now being manifested to the nation at large. And though he had not come in the way the nation at large was expecting—was appearing as a king of wisdom and mercies, instead of as a king of battles and conquests—they felt sure that at last the Messiah had come to his own; and that, beyond all doubt, Jesus was he. In the joy of this great conviction the father died.
Such, in substance, though not in words, was the narrative of the Jew. As he proceeded in it he gradually came to speak with profound emotion. He ended with a voice that trembled and eyes that wept. Cimon was hardly less moved. They sat for a few moments in silence. Then Cimon said:
“This has been the fairest of mornings to me. Though a Greek by birth, I am a Hebrew in faith and expectations; and never did David so long for the waters of Bethlehem as I have longed for news of that Son ofDavid and of Bethlehem, your Messiah. I sayyourMessiah; but I have reason to think that he is mine also; even to think that he belongs to all nations. Sometimes, perhaps, when my young friend is with me I will explain further. But I may now say that, from what you have just told me, and from what I knew before, I am satisfied that the Christ has at last come and that Jesus is he. God be praised! Some difficulties still remain, and perhaps will always remain. Hard questions, questions that I cannot answer, stare at me out of the night. And yet, God be praised! The King has at last come.”
The Jew grasped the hand of the Greek and murmuredBrother.
“Let me tell you another thing,” the Jew added, after a moment. “I haveseenhim. Yes, I have seen Jesus and recognized in the full-grown man the unutterable something that spoke so powerfully to us in the child.”
“When and where?” demanded the other.
“Not in dreams, though I scarcely dream of anything else, but with these bodily eyes. You see that, as news of the wonderful doings in Judea thickened upon us, I became too restless to remain quietly here while the world was being shaken only a few days’ journey away. My brother, who long before the death of our father had taken this khan, felt very much as I did; and so we agreed to go together and see for ourselves, instead of having the facts filtered to us through the imaginations and prejudices, it may be, of other people. Accordingly we went; and not only recognized him, as I have said, but were at once recognized by him and called by our names. None of our acquaintances were about him, weknew not a soul in Capernaum, and yet, as soon as he saw us, he said ‘Shaphan and Nathan, sons of Reuben, welcome.’.... We were with him several days and heard him teach the people as surely people were never before taught.Wesaid, as did his other hearers,Never man spake like this man. And then the things that he did! Oh, it was good and yet awful to be there! How mightily and easily he did things which God alone can do! We saw lepers white as snow turned into sound men at his simple word: also one man who had lost a hand had it instantaneously restored in our presence. In passing through the country we met many who testified that they had been cured by him of the worst forms of disease in their last stages—cured in a moment, and without the use of any natural means whatever. Indeed, the land is full of such cases, so that not even the worst enemies of Jesus pretend to doubt his miraculous powers.”
“Tell me of the man whose hand was restored,” said Cimon.
“A company of us were passing through a street when some blind men met us and cried to Jesus for help. We halted just before a butcher’s stall where a man was dividing some meat with a cleaver. Another man and myself were pressed by the crowd close to the block where the work was being done. In his anxiety to see Jesus deal with the blind men, my neighbor laid his hand on the block suddenly, for the purpose of raising himself somewhat to get a better view, when the cleaver descended and struck off his entire hand. The blood spouted. A great outcry was made, and Jesus came up. He calmly said to the maimed man as he held up thebleeding stump,Be whole: and at once I saw a new hand occupying the place of the old. The whole crowd, as well as myself, carefully inspected the substitute and compared it with the original hand that still lay on the block.”
“Missing limbs are not suddenly reproduced by human art,” said Cimon.
“I am tempted to mention another matter more personal to myself,” continued Shaphan. “I have already said that Jesus called us by our names. We found the next day that he knew more about us than our names. As my brother and myself were sitting by the wayside, Jesus came to us and said:
“‘You are troubled. When you reach home look again for the missing document and you will find it.’
“And truly we were in trouble. When we were children our father was in partnership with a young man. But this young man gradually drew off into other business, and at length sold his interest in the khan to my father, who paid him for it in full and took from him a paper acknowledging the fact. In process of time this paper was lost. Of late this loss has somehow come to the knowledge of the man, and he now claims that he has never received payment, and demands both the principal and the interest on it for more than thirty years. To pay this sum would ruin us. We had been again and again to our oppressor to ask for mercy. But in vain. So wewerein deep waters when Jesus put out his hand and drew us out. For since my return I have found the missing paper.”
“Who is this oppressor?”
“Malus.”
“Has he already begun a suit against you?”
“No: but he threatens to do so within a short time, unless payment is made.”
“Can it be that he is honest, and has merely forgotten?”
“He does not say that he does notrememberhaving received the money. He absolutely denies having received it—could make oath to that effect; has a perfect recollection of all the circumstances, and has only been prevented from pressing his claim during all these years by tenderness of heart.”
“Have you yet told him of the discovery?”
“Not yet.”
“Would you be willing to withhold the news from him for a while?”
“If you wish.”
“I wish you would: and perhaps we may be of service in helping you bring this crafty and powerful rogue to justice. But it will be a hard matter. My fear is that the officials of the city are themselves in league with him in some of his practices, and so will be disposed to shelter him in all.... But this speaking of Malus reminds me of a matter that I must now attend to.”
Cimon rose. It was time to proceed to the custom house. So, promising Shaphan to see him again as soon as possible: also informing him more particularly where they now lodged, in case he should have occasion to seek them (“and,” said he, “I hope that your brother will soon make occasion by bringing further particulars about Jesus”), he took leave cordially.
The lake frontage was, and had long been, all alive with business. The cry of all nations was in the air.In the lake itself vessels of all sorts were coming and going; on the wharves boxes, bales, sacks were being handled with the same dispatch and carelessness that men now show in handling the goods of other people. Also, the custom house itself (a long, low building extending almost from the Gate of the Moon to the canal which joined the lake to the northern harbors) was in full swirl and roar, and had been for hours. But the chief official, like people of his sort in more modern times, did not make as early hours as his subordinates; had loitered over the morning meal and news, though not newspaper; and so had only just made himself comfortable in his office when Cimon presented himself—the first visitor.
The Roman looked up from his tablets on which he had been writing; and, seeing before him a very well dressed and dignified person, laid down his stylus and took an attitude of attention.
Cimon stated that he had waited on the chief of the customs in behalf of an eminent trader, to make certain inquiries which could not be so satisfactorily put to lower officials. Would it suit his convenience to hear them?
“What are they?” said the chief politely.
“If my principal were to send here a lot of eastern good (silks, shawls, rugs, jewels), what duties would he have to pay?”
The Roman took down from a shelf a framed schedule and read from it certain figures. He looked up. The Greek was making a memorandum.
When he had finished, Cimon asked, “Can these rates be relied on for some time to come?”
“Doubtless: they have not been changed since the times of the Ptolemies.”
Cimon made another entry on his tablets.
“Can you give me some idea what the course of trade has been in these eastern goods—what its annual amount, whether subject to fluctuations, whether on the whole increasing or decreasing?”
“I cannot,” said the official. “To do this would require much time and labor in examining the registers.”
“Then you register all lots of goods that come to you, and preserve the registers?”
“Certainly. We preserve them till they become too many for preservation.”
“May I ask how long that is?”
“About fifteen years. At all events, we have the registry books for the last fifteen years.”
Cimon made another entry, and then asked whether one willing to expend the time and labor would be allowed to examine the books, and if so on what terms.
After some hesitation the official replied that the theory was that the books should be open to the inspection of suitable persons, but that there were practical difficulties in the way.
“For example,” said he, “the books of this year are in constant use for record and consultation by the officers of the custom house; the books of previous years are often needed by them for reference; and then, of course, an examination of the books by outside parties would have to be made in the presence of an official, and all the officials we now have are fully occupied with other duties from which they cannot well be spared; and one specially appointed would be expensive, if permissible.”
Cimon said that he was ready to charge himself with all expenses.
The Roman hastened to say that even in that case an express permit from the prefect of the city, possibly from the Governor, might be necessary. He would make inquiry, and, perhaps, would be able to inform him within a day or two.
The Greek bowed. Meanwhile would the chief look over the memoranda he had made and see whether they were correct? He passed over the tablets.
The Roman looked them over carefully and pronounced them all right.
“Would the chief oblige him by writing as much on the tablets over his own signature?”
Yes—the chief would do that; and did it.
Cimon bowed again and withdrew.
On his way out he saw Malus entering. The two men seemed to recognize each other at the same moment. Instantly there flashed into the look of each something that told the other that the encounter was not pleasant. On the part of the Greek the flash was one that gave new erectness to his form and new gravity to his features: on the part of the Jew it was a flash of suspicion and alarm that for an instant expanded his eyes and perceptibly checked his movement. For an instant only. Then came a new woodenness into his face, and he seemed to retreat still further behind those small, half-closed eyes which yet lost nothing of their watchful expression. So on they came toward each other—the Greek unconsciously increasing the dignity and firmness of his tread, and keeping his eyes fixed on the approaching face as if bent on improving to the utmost an unwelcome opportunity for reading on that hard page whatever might be read. So they met and passed. Cimon never looked behindhim. Had he done so he would have seen Malus standing at the door of the office just left and looking after him.
But the Greek did not need to see this. That steady look into the face of Malus, though brief, was enough to assure him that the suspicions of the man were all ablaze, and that he would not rest till he had found out whatever the custom-house chief could tell him. And probably he would be successful in suppressing any further light from that quarter. Cimon was thankful, however, that he had secured as much as he had. He trusted that it would be sufficient—perhaps it could be used to compel more.
He was now more than ever impressed with the necessity of hastening whatever further inquiries he had to make. It was still high day—why not proceed at once to the dealers in eastern goods whose addresses he had jotted down at the khan, and try to find out what had been the selling prices of eastern goods for as many years as possible? Why not even improve the opportunity of Malus’ absence from his warehouse to go there and see what would be said by the subordinates when not overlooked by the master? As soon as the idea suggested itself, he accepted it. He would go to Nos. 110, 111, 112 Emporium Street first of all.
Accordingly, as soon as he had passed through the Gate of the Moon, turning leftward into the Greek quarter to lessen the chances of recognition, he proceeded northward till he thought he might be opposite to the warehouse of Malus, and then struck eastward into Emporium Street again. His venture was successful. Before him stood the establishment he was seeking. Assoon as he presented himself at the door he was politely saluted by a young man and invited to enter. What could he do for my lord?
My lord wished to be conducted to the chief man in charge of the department of eastern goods.
“Certainly, it would be done with the greatest pleasure. Would my lord be pleased to follow?”
This following took Cimon through a large part of the establishment. He could well believe it to be the largest warehouse in Alexandria. It was really an immense bazaar. One could find there almost anything that was bought and sold in the Roman world—from the toys of infants up to the furnishings of a royal palace, and even of a royal person. Messengers were hurrying about, crowds were coming and going, salesmen were crying out and displaying their goods from hundreds of stalls. It was a tempest of assault on the pouches of visitors. And many were evidently being captured.
The department to which Cimon at last came was specially attractive. Here, in an air through which stole the sweetness of the Indian nard and other costly aromatics, were piled or suspended miracles of the loom and needle, on some of which had been expended the labors of a life-time—veils like sea-foams, embroideries to which the glowing oriental fancy and patient fingers had transferred landscape and legend and history and the starry heavens; gold and silver brocade from beyond the Ganges; silks, tapestries, housings, rugs, shawls from Persia and Cashmere: the whole brightened and multiplied wonderfully by polished steel mirrors judiciously placed. At the centre of the department was the collection of precious stones. In a compartment whose wallswere formed by suspended tapestries richly hued and pictured, in a case whose beauty and strength seemed to certify to the great value of its contents, lay pearls from the Persian Gulf, emeralds from the Caucasus, diamonds from the Oxus, turquoises from Medea, rubies from Bokhara, and many other gems—all skillfully arranged into a stony rainbow.
As Cimon passed close to the sparkling collection, and lingered over it for a moment as he passed, it struck him that the sparkle of some of the brilliants was not exactly that of genuine stones. But he might be mistaken. Something more than a passing glance is needed to enable even an expert to identify paste in its better specimens. But one thing he was quite sure of by this time, and that was that the light in the establishment was such as to make an accurate judgment of most of the goods very difficult to an average customer, while such as to set them off to the best advantage.
But he was now standing before the desk of the man whom he came to see.
“You have this department in charge, I believe,” said the Greek, as he courteously saluted a Jew who was no longer young.
Receiving an affirmative bow, Cimon proceeded:
“I am here in behalf of a friend who is not living in this city, to inquire the prices at which certain goods of the very best quality can be obtained. If you will furnish me with a large blank bill I will specify the articled in writing.”
A large blank bill was readily handed to him, on which he wrote a list of considerable length.
“Now will you oblige me,” said he, after havingcarefully read over what he had written, “by setting down opposite these several items the prices at which you could furnish them to-day?”
The man’s eyes snapped as he looked over the long list and saw how many expensive articles it included. When he had set down prices as requested, and had handed back the paper to Cimon, he said:
“The figures may seem to you somewhat large; but they are for first-class goods. In fact, I have made the prices smaller than they would be for small lots, considering the length of your list.”
Cimon examined the paper carefully.
“The prices are unexpectedly large, I confess,” he said gravely. “Have these goods risen in value lately?”
“By no means. The figures I have given you are the lowest we have made in many years.”
“Then you have been in charge of this department for a considerable time?”
“For twenty years.”
“Are these the bottom prices for so long a time as that?”
“Just so.”
“You surprise me. Are you quite sure that there is no mistake in this—that your memory serves you faithfully in regard to so many years?”
“Perfectly sure,” with emphasis. “You see, all the business of this department, so far as sales are concerned, has been in my hands for the number of years I have mentioned; and I remember perfectly that never during all that time have we offered or sold such goods as these at such low figures as I have written.”
“I think, then,” said Cimon, “it would be well foryou to add as much to this paper. Would you object to write at the bottom, ‘These are the lowest figures at which the above goods have been sold for the last twenty years?’”
“Not at all,” said the man—and wrote accordingly.
Cimon took the paper and courteously withdrew.
In very much the same manner and with like success he dealt with several other establishments in the same neighborhood—obtaining from each a written statement of present prices and of how these compared, with the prices of the years immediately preceding. The last place he visited was that of Simeon Ben Simeon. Here, for the first time, he saw himself recognized—Simeon himself being present—and was received in a very cordial way.
“We certainly are under great obligations to you and that magnificent young friend of yours for your spirited help yesterday in the synagogue. I have been quite desirous to meet you again: especially as I saw that both of you were much interested in my report of matters in Judea, and, as I ventured to think, took very much the same view of them as I did. Also, I have something new to tell you.”
Simeon then gave the account with which we are already familiar, as given to Aleph by Rachel. And, in return, the Greek related what Shaphan had told him—keeping back, however, the part that related to Malus. And they rejoiced together.
“Tell me,” said Simeon suddenly, “about that young man—you know whom I mean. Somehow he has a way of walking into one’s confidence and affections after a very wonderful fashion. Who is he?”
Cimon smiled at this downrightness and furious driving at the mark.
“For the present,” said he, “he is only the friend and pupil of Cimon the son of Cimon. I may, however, add that he is one who is quite worthy of the impression he makes. The gold is solid. I have now known him for twenty years—that is to say, ever since he was born—and I have nothing but good and great things to say of him. Is he my son? Of course not—as one can easily see—but though not my son he is a remarkably good substitute for one. I could hardly have a better. And,” he added archly, “I think seriously of adopting him.”
The Jew laughed at the cleverness of the Greek, and forebore to press; only adding, “Icould adopt himwithoutthinking seriously of it.”
As he rose to leave, Cimon said, “I am really sorry that I cannot at present give you the information you wish about my young friend. But I am under bonds. His father only can release me, and that father is far away. So I must confine myself to saying that, unlike most plants which begin to wither as soon as they are parted from the parent root, this plant daily freshens into a larger life. I am the more sorry that I cannot go beyond this, both because you have already given me information of the highest value, and because I came here for the very purpose of getting still further information from you—provided you can consistently grant it. I wish to get from the leading dealers in eastern goods in this city the present selling prices of a number of articles—also how these prices compare with those of as many past years as possible. I have already obtained written statementsfrom all, save yourself, on whom I proposed to call. Do you see any objection to giving me yours?”
“None in the world. Let me see your list.”
So in a few moments Cimon added another to his papers. As Simeon handed it to him, he said:
“I think you can hardly have called on Malus to-day, and yet he has the largest establishment of your sort in the city. He would hardly care to give you such a paper as this. He is much too deep for that.”
Without a word, the Greek singled out one from his parcel of papers and passed it to the Jew—who as soon as he had glanced it over, exclaimed:
“Where was Malus when this was given?”
“Absent.”
“Of course.Of coursehe was absent—as his deputy will probably be when the master learns of his indiscretion.”
As Cimon had noticed no sign of recognition in street or shop, save at Simeon’s, he had begun to feel that perhaps his precautions had been unnecessary; so, when he had taken leave of Simeon and saw how large a part of the day still remained, instead of crossing directly into the Greek quarter again and so proceeding homeward, he turned northward on Emporium Street till he came to the great square at the intersection with the street of Canopus. Here, seeing a crowd that seemed greatly interested with something in their midst, he crossed over to them, and finally managed, by a patient use of the impatience of others, to secure a place where he could see what was going on.
And this was what was going on. A number of street boys, altogether Jewish, were busy practicing anew game. They had drawn on the pavement with a charred stick the ground plan of a large building which Cimon at once recognized as the Diapleuston. Just before him was an unmarked place for the principal door: half way down on the left was a pile of boxes to stand for the mainbemawith its canopy and lecturn: in front of this stood a group of boys pretending to be in earnest conversation among themselves. After this show had continued for a while, all but two of the boys walked off and squatted silently behind the boxes. The two boys left continued the pantomime of conversation for a few minutes, when a noise was heard and lo, another group of boys who had been hid behind the fountain came marching in at the door, two by two, with papyrus helmits on their heads and long, sharpened sticks for spears, trying to keep pace together in soldierly fashion, and carrying in their midst, transfixed on an extra long stick, a very ragged, dirty, and hideous doll. At the head of this company swaggered, perhaps the best dressed, but certainly the ugliest little rascal of the whole lot. He had taken some pains to add to his natural accomplishments such smutches of loveliness as a liberal use of mud and charcoal could give, and would have frightened his own father and mother. About his waist was a rope for a sash: to this was attached a bit of papyrus cut into the shape of a scabbard; in his hand he flourished as sword a short strip of lath that had just come from the shambles and was red enough to be the sword of Mars.
This high and mighty captain at once led his company straight to the two boys, surrounded them, and fell to abusing them with his tongue as only a practicedstreet Arab could do. On this, the other boys behind the boxes hurried to the scene of action, and threw in a liberal accompaniment of voice and gesture to swell the interest of the occasion. Soon Captain Mars worked himself into a tempest, flew at one of the two boys, with his bloody weapon uplifted. The other boys so crowded about the encounter with outstretched and swaying arms as to confuse the view of the spectators; but in a few moments they saw the mimic sword flying high in air, and then its owner in close custody in process of being marched helplessly toward the door, followed by his tatterdemalions hanging their heads and staggering about as they were pushed and pulled and cuffed by the screaming and enthusiastic escort that hemmed them closely in. At the door the leader was dismissed with a rousing box on the ear which sent him off on a stagger, which finally ended in a runaway toward the Roman quarter. His followers each received a like compliment with a like result.
The spectators seemed to enjoy this conclusion hugely. They cheered and gesticulated with great enthusiasm; and when the hot chase took place they all hurried off to keep it in view. The last to follow was a man who had been standing just before Cimon. This man, glancing right and left as if to make sure that the ground was clear, directed his course across the square so as to take on his way the two boys who had personated Cimon and Aleph, and dealt each of them in passing a thwack on the head that was none of the mildest. At all events, it was not a mild wailing that the little fellows set up. Luckily, however, Cimon had noticed the movements of the man, and half divining his purpose, had followed him so closely that he was near enough when theblows were given to follow them with prompt punishment. The two hearty cuffs he gave the fellow were quite equal in value to those he had administered, and seemed very surprising. In the startled and inflamed face that was suddenly turned toward him, Cimon recognized, as he thought, Roman features, though considerably disguised. Could it be that he had again encountered the son of the Governor? But the man gave him no opportunity for a closer examination. He went rapidly off with a Latin oath and a fist-shaking that belonged to all languages.
Cimon consoled the children with a friendly pat on the head and a piece of money for each—such as he had never before possessed. But they hardly needed this consolation—they were so delighted with the summary judgment on their oppressor. Smiles were already rippling over their tearful faces like sunshine over a wet landscape. And when the friendly look and touch and money were added, their sorrows were all forgotten in a caper of delight. But Cimon was really sorry that the urchins had not chosen some other theme for their sport.
“Ten to one,” said he to himself, “this affair, with liberal embellishments, will be carried straight to Bruchium, and will still further stir up ill blood between the sections. There will be trouble here before long. These Jews are too reckless and provoking to be left alone. It may be that their expectation of a conquering Messiah at the door has something to do with their audacity.”
With such thoughts as these running through his mind, he made his way homeward through the Greek and Egyptian quarters. His thoughts ran, but his feet walked—walked very leisurely; for so at this hour of theday did most of the people; and he did not care to draw attention to himself by doing differently from others. Besides, he wished to study the people, as far as he could—without being observed. And it is wonderful how much some people can see without the appearance of seeing. They could hardly see more if their heads were set with a coronet of eyes. Do they divine the situation? Do they absorb the facts lying about them at every pore as they do heat and moisture? So it would seem. Cimon belonged to this class of men. He did not stare, he did not look this way and that, and sometimes turn about, with curiosity flooding every feature and saying, “I am a new-comer,” but he pursued his way with quiet and equal steps and with “eyes that looked right on, and eyelids that looked straight before him”—and yet nothing escaped him; not even that shadow of a portly man just disappearing within a shop on his left and that ragged little urchin that almost immediately darted out of the same and followed him at a little distance.
What should he do? A thought came to him as he came to a baker’s shop. He turned in and called for a loaf and some cakes—keeping an eye on the open door while his parcel was being made up. Presently the little ragamuffin appeared cautiously peeping within. Cimon held out toward him a large, tempting cake, and beckoned. The boy came in slowly, as if resisting an irresistible magnet.
“Hungry, my lad?”
The hungry eyes and pinched features of the little fellow answered the question before his bobbing head could sayYes, as it was not slow to do.
“Had anything to eat to-day, my poor boy? Really,I do not believe you have,” he added pityingly, as he looked more carefully into the thin, dirty face.
The face began to cry.
“And you had no money to buy food with—had you?” inquired Cimon, as he softly patted the curly head.
“He said he would give me some money when I came back,” said the boy.
“Whosaid it?” asked Cimon.
“The man who sent me to see where you were going.”
“He did not think I was going into a baker’s shop to get you something to eat—did he? Come, sit right down here on this bench and eat this loaf and these cakes. Any more hungry ones at home?”
The boy at this began to sob, and at last broke into a perfect canter of sobs. He muttered something which Cimon had to bend low to make out.
“What, poor mother and little sister! Alas, alas—how sorry I am! But do you sit here and eat this; and when you have finished, the baker shall give you twice as much to carry home to your hungry mother and sister, for here is the money. If I could help, they should never be hungry again.”
I do not know what the baker thought of this way of treating the little beggar. But I know what the little beggar thought. He highly approved. He soon dried his tears in the presence of kind looks, kind words, and kinder food. What a glorious appetite that was! And while it was being satisfied, or at least gratified, our friend quietly went his way—unshadowed.