"That is my intention. The price I will settle with your uncles."
She nodded. "Yes, yes, but if you will permit me, I should like to pack it myself, so that it comes to no harm upon the journey. Also with your leave I will retain the model, which by right belongs to you. I am not pleased with this marble; I wish to make another."
"The marble is perfect; but keep the model if you will. I am very glad that you should keep it."
She glanced at him, a question in her eyes, then looked away.
"When do you go?" she asked.
"Three hours after noon. My task is finished, my report--which is to the effect that the Essenes are a most worthy and harmless people who deserve to be encouraged, not molested--is written. Also I am called hence in haste by a messenger who reached me from Jerusalem an hour ago. Would you like to know why?"
"If it pleases you to tell me, yes."
"I think that I told you of my uncle Caius, who was pro-consul under the late emperor for the richest province of Spain, and--made use of his opportunities."
"Yes."
"Well, the old man has been smitten with a mortal disease. For aught I know he may be already dead, although the physicians seemed to think he would live for another ten months, or perhaps a year. Being in this case, suddenly he has grown fond of his relations, or rather relation, for I am the only one, and expressed a desire to see me, to whom for many years he has never given a single penny. He has even announced his intention--by letter--of making me his heir 'should he find me worthy,' which, to succeed Caius, whatever my faults, indeed I am not, since of all men, as I have told him in past days, I hold him the worst. Still, he has forwarded a sum of money to enable me to journey to him in haste, and with it a letter from the Cæsar, Nero, to the procurator Albinus, commanding him to give me instant leave to go. Therefore, lady, it seems wise that I should go."
"Yes," answered Miriam. "I know little of such things, but I think that it is wise. Within two hours the bust shall be finished and packed," and she stretched out her hand in farewell.
Marcus took the hand and held it. "I am loth to part with you thus," he said suddenly.
"There is only one fashion of parting," answered Miriam, striving to withdraw her hand.
"Nay, there are many; and I hate them all--from you."