"Caleb seemed to doubt it," suggested Benoni.
"Caleb is a liar," repeated Marcus with emphasis, "and one of whom you will do well to beware."
"Why should I beware of him?"
Marcus paused a moment, then answered boldly: "Because the lady Miriam is your granddaughter and the heiress of your wealth. I say it, since if I did not Caleb would; probably he has done so already."
For a moment Benoni hid his face in his hands. Then he lifted it and said: "I thought as much, and now I am sure. But, my lord Marcus, if my blood is hers my wealth is my own."
"Just so. Keep it if you will, or leave it where you will. It is Miriam I seek, and not your money."
"I think that Caleb seeks both Miriam and my money--like a prudent man. Why should he not have them? He is a Jew of good blood; he will, I think, rise high."
"And I am a Roman of better blood who will rise higher."
"Yes, a Roman, and I, the grandfather, am a Jew who do not love you Romans."
"And Miriam is neither Jew nor Roman, but a Christian, brought up not by you, but by the Essenes; and she loves me, although she will not marry me because I am not a Christian."
Benoni shrugged his shoulders as he answered: "All of this is a problem which I must ponder on and solve."
Marcus sprang from his seat and stood before the old man with menace in his air.
"Look you, Benoni," he said, "this is a problem not to be solved by you or by Caleb, but by Miriam herself, and none other. Do you understand?"
"I understand that you threaten me."
"Ay, I do. Miriam is of full age; her sojourn with the Essenes must come to an end. Doubtless you will take her to dwell with you. Well, beware how you deal by her. If she wishes to marry Caleb of her own free will, let her do so. But if you force her to it, or suffer him to force her, then by your God, and by my gods, and by her God, I tell you that I will come back and take such a vengeance upon him and upon you, and upon all your people, that it shall be a story for generations. Do you believe me?"
Benoni looked up at the man who stood before him in his youth and beauty, his eyes on fire and his form quivering with rage, and looking, shrank back a little. He did not know that this light-hearted Roman had such strength and purpose at command. Now he understood for the first time that he was a true son of the terrible race of conquerors, who, if he were crossed, could be as merciless as the worst of them, one whose very honesty and openness made him to be feared the more.