"What wouldst thou do? What then is my soul worth, thinkest thou, Lazarus?"
"What is thy soul worth to thyself?" he answered. "What thinkest thou of Eternity?"
"Methinks," replied Rebekah, "that Eternity with thee were well spent, whether in Heaven or Hell."
He turned and fixed his eyes upon her sternly.
"Dost know that which thou sayest, noble maiden?" he asked her solemnly.
"Yea, I know well that I do love thee, Lazarus, and that, if thou wouldst but love me in return, I, too, for thy dear sake, would love the Nazarene; but if so be that thou dost spurn my love, then care I not whether Satan have me or not, or whether, as the Sadducees say, there be resurrection or another world at all; for where Lazarus is not I would not live."
"Thou art mad," said Lazarus, rising from the seat and pacing up and down the path in front of her. Then he came and stood in front of her.
"Thy words have moved me strangely, maiden," he resumed hoarsely, "and I would ask thee to let me go, for this conversation becometh neither thee nor me. The hour hath bewitched thee, and thy mind is overwrought with listening to the Christ's words, and the long journey hath wearied thee. To-morrow thou wilt have forgotten thy words, and so shall I."
Then Rebekah rose, and, with a despairing gesture, wailed bitterly: "Thou mayst forget, but I shall not, for night and day I think of thee, and long but for thy heart only in all Judæa. If thou
