“I hoped also to hear the voice of the maiden on whose love I rely,” he answered gloomily.

“You shall hear it,” she replied quickly, taking her hand from the stones.  “Yet it may be that I cannot agree with the opinion of the man whose strength and wisdom are so far superior to mine, yet you have just shown that you cannot tolerate the opposition of a woman, not even mine.”

“Miriam,” he interrupted reproachfully, but she continued still more eagerly:  “I have felt it, and because it would be the greatest grief of my life to lose your heart, you must learn to understand me, ere you call upon me to express my opinion.”

“First hear my message.”

“No, no!” she answered quickly.  “The reply would die upon my lips.  Let me first tell you of the woman who has a loving heart, and yet knows something else that stands higher than love.  Do you smile?  You have a right to do so, you have so long been a stranger to the secret I mean to confide. . . .”

“Speak then!” he interrupted, in a tone which betrayed how difficult it was for him to control his impatience.

“I thank you,” she answered warmly.  Then leaning against the trunk of the ancient tree, while he sank down on the bench, gazing alternately at the ground and into her face, she began: 

“Childhood already lies behind me, and youth will soon follow.  When I was a little girl, there was not much to distinguish me from others.  I played like them and, though my mother had taught me to pray to the God of our fathers, I was well pleased to listen to the other children’s tales of the goddess Isis.  Nay, I stole into her temple, bought spices, plundered our little garden for her, anointed her altar, and brought flowers for offerings.  I was taller and stronger than many of my companions, and was also the daughter of Amram, so they followed me and readily did what I suggested.  When I was eight years old, we moved hither from Zoan.  Ere I again found a girl-playfellow, you came to Gamaliel, your sister’s husband, to be cured of the wound dealt by a Libyan’s lance.  Do you remember that time when you, a youth, made the little girl a companion?  I brought you what you needed and prattled to you of the things I knew, but you told me of bloody battles and victories, of flashing armor, and the steeds and chariots of the warrior, You showed me the ring your daring had won, and when the wound in your breast was cured, we roved over the pastures.  Isis, whom you also loved, had a temple here, and how often I secretly slipped into the forecourt to pray for you and offer her my holiday-cakes.  I had heard so much from you of Pharaoh and his splendor, of the Egyptians, and their wisdom, their art, and luxurious life, that my little heart longed to live among them in the capital; besides, it had reached my ears that my brother Moses had received great favors in Pharaoh’s palace and risen to distinction in the priesthood.  I no longer cared for our own people; they seemed to me inferior to the Egyptians in all respects.