To the shrewd, demanding,
masterful glance bent upon it, the face gave back nothing to mar
its youthful comeliness--nothing of accusation or sullenness or
menace, only the signs which a great sorrow long borne imprints,
as time mellows the surface of pictures. In tacit acknowledgment
of the effect, the Roman spoke as an older man to a younger, not as
a master to a slave.
"The hortator tells me thou art his best rower."
"The hortator is very kind," the rower answered.
"Hast thou seen much service?"
"About three years."
"At the oars?"
"I cannot recall a day of rest from them."
"The labor is hard; few men bear it a year without breaking,
and thou--thou art but a boy."
"The noble Arrius forgets that the spirit hath much to do with
endurance. By its help the weak sometimes thrive, when the strong
perish."
"From thy speech, thou art a Jew."
"My ancestors further back than the first Roman were Hebrews."
"The stubborn pride of thy race is not lost in thee," said Arrius,
observing a flush upon the rower's face.
"Pride is never so loud as when in chains."
"What cause hast thou for pride?"
"That I am a Jew."
Arrius smiled.
"I have not been to Jerusalem," he said; "but I have heard of
its princes. I knew one of them. He was a merchant, and sailed
the seas. He was fit to have been a king. Of what degree art
thou?"
"I must answer thee from the bench of a galley. I am of the degree
of slaves. My father was a prince of Jerusalem, and, as a merchant,
he sailed the seas.
Pages:
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202