"Yes," answered Benoni scanning his visitor, "I knew Hilliel--a clever
man, but one who fell into a trap at last, and I see that you are his
son. Your face proves it; indeed, it might be Hilliel who stands before
me."

"I am proud that you should say so," answered Caleb, though already he
guessed that between Benoni and his father no love had been lost. "You
know," he added, "that certain of our people seized my inheritance,
which now has been restored to me--in part."

"By Gessius Florus the procurator, I think, who on this account, has
cast many Jews--some of them innocent--into prison."

"Indeed! Is that so? Well, it was concerning this Florus that I came
chiefly to ask your advice. The Roman has kept a full half of my
property," and Caleb sighed and looked indignant.

"You are indeed fortunate that he has not kept it all."

"I have been brought up in the desert far from cities," pleaded Caleb.
"Is there no law by which I may have justice of this man? Cannot you
help me who are great among our people?"

"None," answered Benoni. "Roman citizens have rights, Jews what they can
get. You can appeal to Caesar if you wish, as the jackal appealed to the
lion. But if you are wise you will be content with half the carcase.
Also I am not great; I am but an old merchant without authority."

Caleb looked downfallen. "It seems that the days are hard for us Jews,"
he said. "Well, I will be content and strive to forgive my enemies."

"Better be content and strive to smite your enemies," answered Benoni.
"You who were poor are rich; for this much thank God."

"Night and morning I do thank Him," replied Caleb earnestly and with
truth.

Then there was silence for a while.

"Is it your intention to reside in Hezron's--I mean in your house--in
Tyre?" asked Benoni, breaking it.

"For a time, perhaps, until I find a tenant. I am not accustomed to
towns, and at present they seem to stifle me."

"Where were you brought up, sir?"

"Among the Essenes by Jericho. But I am not an Essene--their creed
disgusted me; I belong to that of my fathers."

"There are worse men," replied Benoni. "A brother of my late wife is an
Essene, a kindly natured fool named Ithiel; you may have known him."

"Oh, yes, I know him. He is one of their curators and the guardian of
the lady Miriam, his great-niece."

The old man started violently, then, recovering himself, said:

"Forgive me, but Miriam was the name of my lost wife--one which it
di