“I offer you my congratulations,” he said.  “If God permits it and you will walk steadily, your future should be brilliant, since you are of a pleasant countenance, and when you choose to use it, behind that countenance lies a brain.  But here I see no security for my money, since even if all things go right, Italy is a long way off.”

“Man, do you think that I should cheat you?” asked Marcus hotly.

“No, no, but accidents might happen.”

“Well, I will make it worth your while to risk them.  For the half-talent write a talent charged upon my estate, whether I live or die.  And be swift, I pray you, for I have matters to speak of, of more importance than this miserable money.  Whilst I was commissioner among the Essenes on the banks of Jordan——­”

“The Essenes!  What of the Essenes?” broke in Benoni.

Marcus considered him with his grey eyes, then answered: 

“Let us settle this little matter of business and I will tell you.”

“Good.  It is settled; you shall have the acknowledgment to sign and the consideration in cash and bills before you leave my house.  Now what of these Essenes?”

“Only this,” said Marcus; “they are a strange people who read the future, I know not how.  One of them with whom I became friendly, foretold that mighty troubles were about to fall upon this land of yours—­slaughter and pestilence, and famine, such as the world has not seen.”

“That is an old prophecy of those accursed Nazarenes,” broke in Benoni.

“Call them not accursed, friend,” said Marcus, in an odd voice, “for you should do so least of all men.  Nay, hear me out.  It may be a prophecy of the Nazarenes, but it is also a prophecy of the Essenes, and I believe it, who watch the signs of the times.  Now the elder told me this, that there will be a great uprising of the Jews against the strength of Caesar, and that most of those who join in it shall perish.  He even gave names, and among them was yours, friend Benoni.  Therefore, because you have lent me money, although I am a Roman, I have come to Tyre to warn you to keep clear of rebellions and other tumults.”

The old man listened quietly, but not as one who disbelieves.

“All this may be so,” he said, “but if my name is written in that book of the dead, the angel of Jehovah has chosen me, and I cannot escape his sword.  Moreover, I am aged, and”—­here his eyes flashed—­“it is a good end to die fighting one’s country’s enemies.”

“How you Jews do love us to be sure!” said Marcus with a little laugh.

“The nation that sends a Gessius Florus, or even an Albinus, to rule its alien subjects must needs be loved,” replied Benoni with bitter sarcasm.  “But let us be done with politics lest we grow angry.  It is strange, but a visitor has just left me who was brought up among these Essenes.”

“Indeed,” said Marcus, staring vacantly into the sea.

“He told me that a young and beautiful woman resides with them who is named the Queen of the Essenes.  Did you chance to see her, my lord?”