s shoulder; both of them
were regarding him fixedly.

"If you are Simonides, the merchant, and a Jew"--Ben-Hur stopped
an instant--"then the peace of the God of our father Abraham upon
you and--yours."

The last word was addressed to the girl.

"I am the Simonides of whom you speak, by birthright a Jew," the
man made answer, in a voice singularly clear. "I am Simonides,
and a Jew; and I return you your salutation, with prayer to know
who calls upon me."

Ben-Hur looked as he listened, and where the figure of the
man should have been in healthful roundness, there was only a
formless heap sunk in the depths of the cushions, and covered by
a quilted robe of sombre silk. Over the heap shone a head royally
proportioned--the ideal head of a statesman and conqueror--a head
broad of base and domelike in front, such as Angelo would have
modelled for Caesar. White hair dropped in thin locks over the
white brows, deepening the blackness of the eyes shining through
them like sullen lights. The face was bloodless, and much puffed
with folds, especially under the chin. In other words, the head
and face were those of a man who might move the world more readily
than the world could move him--a man to be twice twelve times
tortured into the shapeless cripple he was, without a groan,
much less a confession; a man to yield his life, but never a
purpose or a point; a man born in armor, and assailable only
through his loves. To him Ben-Hur stretched his hands, open and
palm up, as he would offer peace at the same time he asked it.

"I am Judah, son of Ithamar, late head of the House of Hur, and a
prince of Jerusalem."

The merchant's right hand lay outside the robe--a long, thin hand,
articulate to deformity with suffering. It closed tightly;
otherwise there was not the slightest expression of feeling
of any kind on his part; nothing to warrant an inference of
surprise or interest; nothing but this calm answer,

"The princes of Jerusalem, of the pure blood, are always welcome
in my house; you are welcome. Give the young man a seat, Esther."

The girl took an ottoman near by, and carried it to Ben-Hur. As she
arose from placing the seat, their eyes met.

"The peace of our Lord with you," she said, modestly. "Be seated
and at rest."

When she resumed her place by the chair, she had not divined his
purpose. The powers of woman go not so far: if the matter is of
finer feeling, such as pity, mercy, sympathy, that she detects;
and