“You cannot expect to find them or any one on this earth infallible,” returned Yusuf, quietly.  “I can only promise that you will find in them quiet, sincere, upright Christians.”

They had reached a sudden turn on the path, and before them, on the top of a steep cliff, stood Dumah, with his fair hair streaming in the sunshine.  He was singing, and they paused to listen.

    “He is gone, the noble, the handsome,
    And the tears of the mother are falling
    Like dews from the cup of the lily
    When it bends its head in the darkness.”

“Poor Dumah!” said Amzi, “singing his thoughts as usual.  What now, Dumah?  Who is weeping?”

“A poor Jewess,” said the boy, “and her two children cling to her gown and weep too.  Ah, if Dumah had power he would soon set him free.”

“Set whom free?” asked Yusuf.

“The father; they say he took the cup to buy bread; but for the sake of the children, Dumah would set him free.”

“Oh, it is only a case of stealing down in the Jewish quarter,” said Amzi, carelessly.

“Yet,” returned the other, “a weeping mother and helpless children should appeal to the heart of Amzi the benevolent.  Let us turn aside and see what it is about.  Dumah, lead us.”

They followed the boy to the hall or court-room of the city.  A judge sat on a raised dais; witnesses were below, and the owner of the gold cup was talking excitedly and calling loudly for justice.

“There is the culprit,” whispered Amzi.

Yusuf was struck dumb.  It was Nathan, the Christian Jew!  Agony was written in his face, yet there was patience in it too.  His arms were bound, and his head was bent in what might have been interpreted as humiliation.

“Once more,” cried the judge, “have you aught to say for yourself, Jew?”

Nathan raised his head proudly, and looked the Judge straight in the eyes.

“I am guiltless,” he said, in low, firm tones.

A murmur burst from the crowd, and exclamations could be heard.

“Not guilty!  And the cup found in his house!”

“Coward dog!  Will he not yet confess?”

“The scourge is too good for him!”

“Have you no explanation to offer?” asked the judge.

“None.”

“Then, guards, place him in irons to await our further pleasure.  In the meantime forty lashes of the scourge.  Next!”

Nathan walked out with firm step and head erect.  A low sob burst from some one in the crowd.  It was the wife of Nathan, weeping, while little Manasseh and Mary clung to her weeping too.

Yusuf touched her on the arm.  “Hush!  Be calm!” he said.  “All will yet be well.  I, for one, know that he is innocent, and I will not rest until he is free.”

“Thank God!  He has not forsaken us!” exclaimed the woman.

Yusuf put a piece of money into Manasseh’s hand.  “Here, take your mother home, and buy some bread,” he said.