“No, peddler!” he said, “you may go, but it must be with me.  To the magistrate you must go, and that right speedily.  The innocent must no longer suffer in your rightful place.  Come, Aza,”—­to an attendant who had been in the room—­“your tongue may be needed to supplement mine.”

The Jew’s little eyes rolled around restlessly.  He was a thorough coward, and his teeth chattered with fear as he was half-dragged into the blinding glare of the street, and down the long, crooked way, with a crowd of beggars and saucy boys following in the wake of the trio.  Once or twice again he made a quick and sudden movement to elude the grasp of his captors, but the priest’s grip was firm and his muscle like steel.  Justice was in Yusuf’s heart, and his anxiety to procure Nathan’s release was so great that he strode on, almost forgetting the poor little Jew, who was obliged to keep up a constant hobbling run to save himself from being dragged to the ground.

In the hall of justice the usual amount of questioning went on, but the evidence afforded by the ring was so conclusive that the order for Nathan’s release and the peddler’s imprisonment was soon given.

Yusuf accompanied the guards to Nathan’s cell.  The poor prisoner was sitting on the bare clay with his head buried on his knee.  An unusual clamor sounded outside of the door.  The heavy bolt was withdrawn, and the next moment Yusuf rushed in, crying, “Free, Nathan, free!”

Nathan fell on the other’s bosom.  The sudden joy was too much for him, and he could only lie, like a little child, sobbing on the breast of the stalwart priest.

The warden rattled the bolts impatiently.  “Come, there’s room outside!” he said.  “I have not time to stand here all day!”

“Pardon us,” said the priest, gently.  “We go; yet, warden, ere we depart, may I ask you to deal leniently with that poor wretch?” and he pointed to the Jew, who was now crouched shivering in his chains.

“We but do as we are ordered,” returned the warden unfeelingly.  “The officers will be here presently with the scourge; we can not prevent that.”

The peddler winced, and Nathan raised a face full of pity.  “Warden,” he said, “if you have a drop of mercy in your heart, if you hope for mercy for yourself, treat him as a man.  Let him not die for want of a pittance of water.”

He turned the sleeve of his loose garment back to expose the emaciated arm with the bones showing through the loose skin.  “There,” he said, “let that touch your heart, if heart you have, and spare him.  Poor Abraham!”—­turning to the peddler—­“did I not see you here, the joy of my release would be unspeakable.”

But Abraham only turned to bestow a look of hate and malice upon the priest.

Then Yusuf and Nathan passed out into the pure, fresh air, now growing cool with the approach of evening.  Never did air seem so pure and sweet; never did swallows twitter so gladly; never did the peak of Abu Kubays shine so gloriously in the sun; never did the voices of people sound so joyous or their faces beam so brightly.