wars and tumults in Judaea, and that Vespasian,
a great general, is to be sent to quell them. If I can I will come with
him, but at present--such is the madness of my master--this is too much
to hope, unless, indeed, he wearies suddenly of the 'Divine Work' and
its attendant 'Model.'

"Meanwhile I also cast incense upon your altar, and pray that in these
troubles you may come to no harm.

"Miriam, I am most unhappy. I think of you always and yet I cannot come
to you. I picture you in many dangers, and I am not there to save you. I
even dare to hope that you would wish to see me again; but it is the
Jew Caleb, and other men, who see you and make offerings to your sweet
beauty as I make them to your spirit. I beseech you, Miriam, do not
accept the offerings, lest in some day to come, when I am once more a
soldier, and have ceased to be a custodian of busts, it should be the
worse for those worshippers, and especially for Caleb.

"What else have I to tell you? I have sought out some of the great
preachers of your faith, hoping that by the magic whereof they are said
to be masters, they would be able to assure me of your welfare. But
to my sorrow they gave me no magic--in which it seems they do not
deal--only maxims. Also, from these I bought for a great sum certain
manuscripts written by themselves containing the doctrines of your law,
which I intend to study so soon as I have time. Indeed, this is a task
which I wish to postpone, since did I read I might believe and turn
Christian, to serve in due course as a night-light in Nero's gardens.

"I send you a present, praying that you will accept it. The emerald in
the ring is cut by my friend, the sculptor Glaucus. The pearls are fine
and have a history which I hope to tell you some day. Wear them always,
beloved Miriam, for my sake. I do not forget your words; nay, I ponder
them day and night. But at least you said you loved me, and in wearing
these trinkets you break no duty to the dead. Write to me, I pray you,
if you can find a messenger. Or, if you cannot write, think of me always
as I do of you. Oh, that we were back together in that happy village of
the Essenes, to whom, as to yourself, be all good fortune! Farewell.

"Your ever faithful friend and lover,

"Marcus."

Miriam finished her letter, kissed it, and hid it in her bosom. Then she
opened the packet and unlocked the ivory box within by a key that hung
to it. Out of the casket she took a roll of soft lea