The face of Zador Ben Amon was divided into two halves, the upper of which reached from the line of his black beard that ran straight under his cheek-bones, to the lower edge of his elegant head covering. Prominent in this half were the eyes of Zador Ben Amon, but whether those of a wolf, a fox or a saved son of Israel, was a matter of reciprocity depending on the kind and condition of profit-making at hand. The lower portion of the money-changer's face was again divided into two halves by a thin white line running from lip to chin; this line was preserved by choice oils applied liberally to his beard hair. The solidity of Zador Ben Amon, whether financial or otherwise, was suggested by the broad back of his short body and in the square shape of his feet, whose bones bulged in spite of the best of sandals. To cover his broad back, Zador had a wonderful cloak of blue with a purple stripe above the border where crimson pomegranates were embroidered. With this cloak over his arm, for the season was getting too warm for more back covering than the usual garment, with new hand-wrought silver buckles on his sandals, a jaunty sash with deep knotted fringes, and with hair and beard perfumed, he made his way to the home of Lazarus at Bethany.

The wheels of his carriage had not yet turned from the door when Zador Ben Amon was welcomed by Lazarus and bidden through the open door, inside which stood Mary and Martha and Joel. His greeting to Martha was brief. Toward Mary he advanced with smiling face, as if to embrace her. "Nay?" he questioned as she drew back. "Didst not thy brother tell thee I have decided to make thee my betrothed?"

"The words my brother spake I did not so understand," she replied, stepping yet farther back from him.

"Then hath the pleasure been left for Zador, son of Amon, to tell Mary of the House of Dates that he hath come to make her his betrothed and hath brought her a fit gift."

"But I know thee not save as a friend of my brother Lazarus, nor dost thou know me."

"And what needst thou to know save that I am among Israel's rich and mighty and would take thee to wife? And what need I to know of thee more than that thou art fair and a woman? Doth the hungry beast not know its heart's desire? To thy brother have I spoken."

"And hath Lazarus given you knowledge that my heart is in his keeping?"
Mary asked.

"Hearts!" Zador exclaimed, laughing like one well fed. "Lazarus, thy fair sister doth take hearts into account rather than shekels and talents of gold."

"Perhaps there is wisdom in the words she speaketh when she saith you know her not," and Lazarus smiled. "Seat thyself and make ready for a better acquaintance."

"Thou speakest," Zador answered heartily, glancing toward the window-seat. "But before thou layest my cloak aside would I show it to the maidens. At a great price I secured this," and he held it toward Martha and Mary.

"Its colors are most beautiful," Mary said.

Martha had slipped her hand inside the folds and was closely examining the needlework.

"From hem to hem the pomegranates reach," Zador explained, noticing
Martha's interest. "Doth not the needlework far exceed that of
Israel's workers in fine thread?"

"The workmanship is wonderful. Yet here are loose stitches at the top of the border."

Zador caught up the cloak hem and examined it with careful eye as he said, "Thou knowest. On the morrow will it be mended. But now, since Zador hath come to know that Mary and Martha delight in rich apparel, let him tell them of garments that dazzle the eye for glory and riches."

"Robes of Rome?" Martha asked with keen interest

"Yea, as I saw them in banquet hall and amphitheatre."

When the guest's cloak had been carefully put aside and his feet washed, the group gathered in the wide window-seat where he reclined, to hear news from Rome. "Hath the fame of the garment of Lolilla Pauline come to your ears?" he asked.

"Nay," answered Martha.

"Of seed pearls was it covered and over the pearls lay leaves of emerald. Forty million sesterces did it cost. Thou holdest up thy hands? Then will I tell thee of one that did cost fifty million sesterces—the like of which eye hath not seen before. On a robe of pearls sprinkled with diamonds, sat a peacock of great size so that his head did rest on the shoulders of the wearer and the tail of the bird did cover her back. And of rare jewels was this bird made; emeralds and rubies and topaz and sapphire and amethyst and opals and jacinths, set with such skill as to make the breast-plate of the High Priest a bauble. What delighteth the heart of a woman more than rich wearing apparel?" The question followed his description of the jewels and he laughed heartily at Martha's expression of amazed delight.

"Yet another garment would I tell thee of, such a one as eye hath not before seen." He stopped to laugh heartily. "A garment it also was of many colors," and again he laughed. "In that which is filthy and cast away do rag-pickers stir and strive. And when they have great stores of that which is vile and useless, do they sew it together into a garment and sell it for a pittance to a slave to cover his naked body. Such a rag-picker's garment saw I. Such a sight—sold for such a pittance."

"But might not the pittance paid for a rag-picker's garment be more to the slave than fifty million sesterces to one whose toil earned not even the first of them?" asked Mary.

"Ask me not questions about slaves, the rabble. Thou knowest they are but broilers and vile."

"Perhaps," Mary answered thoughtfully, "if slaves and the rabble were better fed they would broil less. Doth not Baba Metzia say 'When the barley in the jar is finished, quarrels come thundering through the house'?"

"Thou knowest nothing of slaves and the rabble, fair Mary. Never are the poor content. Give them bran and vinegar and they want herbs. Give them herbs and they want lentils. Give them lentils and they want sop of mutton. And once sop-fed will they cry aloud for the mutton itself. Cursed be the poor, by God. Let them be accursed." And the money-changer nodded his head in approval of his speech.

"Yea, accursed be the poor," said Lazarus. "Yet it seemeth not so much according to the curse of God as to the greed of man. To the rich their riches come by inheritance as came mine. Or cometh riches by great cunning and skill in taking from others."

"As cometh mine," Zador Ben Amon laughed, rubbing his hands and looking from one to the other for approval. "And even now my palms grow hot for that which shall come into them from my Temple booths at the Passover. But how dost thou reason, Lazarus? If there are rich and mighty must there not of necessity be the poor and weak?"

"Yea. Yet is this according to the Law of Moses? According to the Law was not grain left in the corners for the gleaners? Was not stealing and lying forbidden among Israelites? Was usury not forbidden under great penalty? And was not the year of Jubilee proclaimed? Hath the Law no meaning?"

"Like fire is the Law, a good servant but a bad master, my friend
Lazarus. But let us not talk of the Law but of the Great Feast.
Gorged with pilgrims from all the earth is Jerusalem and this year's
Temple business will exceed all bounds. Never did I see so many and
strange peoples."

"Even wonder workers—eh, Mary?" Joel said.

Zador Ben Amon looked toward Mary for an answer.

"He speaketh of Jesus of Nazareth, methinks," she replied.

"Who is he?" and he turned to Lazarus.

"A Galilean Rabbi."

"Galilee is not noted for furnishing Rabbis. Hath he been taught in the Temple?"

"Nay. Yet in the Temple teacheth he such wisdom as hath not before been taught by any Rabbi."

"And he works wonders," Martha added.

Zador Ben Amon laughed heartily. "Women believe all things," he said. "There are no wonder workers but sorcerers. Even Eunus, who had the whole Isle of Sicily bewitched, did spit out fire by first putting fire in his mouth. So doeth this Jesus his wonders by Beelzebub—if indeed he doeth them."

As the time for dining drew near, the scent of cooking meat reached the nostrils of Zador. He sniffed and smiled approval, saying, "The savory odor of thy well seasoned meat bringeth to mind the meat and wine of the banquet at which the Roman noblewoman wore the blazing peacock." Again Martha showed keen interest. "In myrrhine and jeweled vases were the wines served and the nightingales' tongues on platters of pure gold," and he watched for the effect of his words.

"Nightingales' tongues!" Mary exclaimed.

"Of a truth. It seemeth past reason that enough of meat so small should be secured to banquet on. Yet when Rome would banquet, all things are hers. Into far places goeth the fowler with his snare and by the thousand are the fowls of the air sent in, to be burned, save the tongues of them."

The eyes of Mary were fastened on the face of her guest in bewildered amazement. "And you ate nightingales' tongues?" she again exclaimed.

"By the gold plate full. Savory beyond telling was the dish and my appetite was at best."

The eyes of Mary turned from the face of Zador.

"Mary hath three unfeathered ones she spendeth much time feeding," Joel remarked after a short silence. "She would have them grow large."

Zador looked at Mary, leaned his head against a pillow and laughed. "And so our Mary would sup after the manner of Rome. Three nightingales? The tongues of them all will not make a taste!"

A flush tinged Mary's face as she said, "Dost thou think I would nourish the lives of nestlings to pluck from their throats their tongues?" and she cast a straight glance at the reclining man.

"Of what other use are they?" and a mild expression of interest showed on Zador's face.

"Hast thou forgotten the song?"

"Song? Hear the woman, Lazarus, my friend! But a moment ago she did put a value on hearts. Now songs have a value. The heart of a woman and the song of a bird! Are they worth shekels or talents, my fair Mary?"

"The love of the heart is priceless," she replied, "and there is music of value more than gold talents."

"Are not the silver trumpets of the Temple music enough for thee?"

"Such music is indeed sweet. But there is yet other music."

After Mary had excused herself and gone into the garden a few moments later, Martha said, "She hath gone to feed her nestlings."

"Then will I show you the rare gift I brought thy sister," and from a leather case taken from inside his cloak Zador drew a delicately wrought anklet of gold set thick with shining green chalcedony. From it hung bangles, like bits of fine gold lace, carrying, each in the center, a precious stone of changing color. At sight of it Martha gave an exclamation of delight, and Lazarus and Joel looked at it with interest. "My betrothal gift to Mary," Zador Ben Amon said with undisguised admiration as he turned it about and shook it so that the tinkling of the bangles sounded. "From Ceylon came the garnets and the emerald from Ethiopian mines. When hath man given his betrothed so rich a gift? Proud will thy fair sister be to receive it."

"I would have Mary come," Lazarus said, and leaving the house, he went into the garden. At the far end Mary was sitting under a glossy green pomegranate which was in full crimson blossom. Clad in white and with her silver bound veil falling softly about her, she made a picture worth pausing a moment to view. She held the nest of young birds in one hand and moved the other slowly over them, until, roused by the wing-like motion, they opened wide their yellow mouths for the food she dropped in. Lazarus watched a moment before seating himself near her. "Mary, my sister," he said, "Zador Ben Amon is an Israelite high and mighty and hath set his heart on thee."

"Nay. Nay," she replied quickly. "He is a heathen and his heart is set on shekels and talents."

"He hath brought thee a betrothal gift."

Mary was silent until she had closed her hand over the crying nestlings. Then she turned to Lazarus. "Dost thou want me to leave thee, my brother?"

"Nay, nay, Mary. Not so. I would keep thee always if thou wouldst. Yet there cometh a time when a woman's heart goeth out to another man than her brother. Thou art different from Martha and setteth much store on things not sold in market places. Let not thy answer come from the mouth of a nightingale. When thy arms grow hungry for little ones and thy breast casts about for him who shall be father to them, Zador Ben Amon—"

Further words were cut short by an exclamation from Mary who drew back in horror.

"What is it?" and Lazarus looked about. "What abominable thing cometh nigh thee?"

For a moment Mary made no reply. With her brother's reference to little ones which should come of her union with the money-changer, she had felt again the passion unspeakable that had for the moment gripped her at touch of the Bedouin baby's lips. Yet as it swept through her now it was the passion of utter revulsion, such passionate revulsion as had stamped itself on her face when her brother looked about for some ugly, creeping reptile. "Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings cometh wisdom," she seemed to hear the Rabbi say again, and without understanding the mystery of the wisdom, she knew it had come through the mouth of the Bedouin baby. "Not from the mouth of a nightingale shall my answer come," said Mary. "But if thou lovest me, speak no more forever of wedding me with this Jew. It hath been revealed to me there is no wisdom in it."

"He will press the matter with thee. He is a guest under my roof and a
Sadducee of power. Choose well thy way."

"I have already made choice. To the home of Anna do I go for the night. She hath called me, for her father is in Jerusalem."

"Is this wisdom?" asked Lazarus thoughtfully.

"It is a favor to Anna, and Zador Ben Amon will not miss a foolish lover of songs when he doth lay hold of Martha's choice meat."

Together Mary and Lazarus walked toward the house. When they reached the big stone bench, Zador stood waiting. Lazarus passed on, and because he insisted, Mary sat beside the Temple money-maker. He put the cloak carefully over the back of the seat and from its folds drew the anklet. Uncovering it, he thrust it suddenly before her, watching eagerly for her first impression.

"What thinkest thou? Is this not a fit betrothal gift for a Roman noblewoman?"

"It is most beautiful," she answered quietly.

"It is thine, my Israelitish princess—my Mary!" he exclaimed with all the interest she had not shown. "Draw up thy skirt for with my own hand would I fit it to thy white and shapely ankle," and his narrow black eyes shone with the anticipated pleasure.

Mary drew away saying, "Nay, nay. I wear no anklets."

"See," and he held it toward her. "Its jewels will tinkle on thy skirt like the silver bells on the High Priest's robe. What soundeth more pleasant to the ears of a woman?"

"But I care not for wagging nose rings and tinkling anklets," she replied.

"And thou wouldst have another gift than this?" Zador asked, his disappointment apparent.

"Nay. No gift would I have. When there is no betrothal what need of a gift?"

Zador Ben Amon turned his eyes on Mary. "No betrothal!" he exclaimed. "No betrothal! Thou dost jest. Where is the woman who would do less than be betrothed to Zador Ben Amon? Take thou the gift. As the price of thy heart was it fashioned and I make my oath that no other woman shall possess it. Here," and he held it toward her. She made no move. He placed it carefully on the wide stone arm of the bench. "There is thy gift and palsied be my arm if my hand toucheth it again. It is thine." And Zador waited for Mary to speak. "Thou dost disturb me much!" And his voice suggested anger when she made no move to take the gift, and arising he went to the pool beside which he stood with bowed head.

After watching him a moment, Mary's hand sought the border of his cloak. Her fingers felt the loose thread in the wide hem. Lifting the anklet, she slipped it inside the hem and pushed it around to one side of the garment.

"On the morrow when he mends the rent he will find that I neither took it nor must his arm suffer palsy for withholding it from me," and she smiled. Then she arose. "Zador Ben Amon," she said, "I go to the home of Anna whose father doth not return from Jerusalem to-night. Farewell."

With a start he turned his face to her. A few quick steps brought him to her side and he would have thrown his arms about her but she gathered her veil tightly and said, "Touch me not!"

"Touch thee not? Am I a god of wood?" and before she had stepped aside his fingers touched her.

"My brother sitteth just behind the lattice. Wilt thou that I call him?" Zador Ben Amon stopped. Mary cast one swift glance at him. "Devourer of songs unsung," she said slowly, turning her back on him.

He watched her cross the court and pass through the gate into the yard of Simon the Leper. When she was beyond sight he stepped hurriedly back to the bench. He glanced cautiously toward the house. He ran his hand over the stone where he had placed the anklet. He shook his cloak. He dropped on his hands and knees and searched the grass carefully. "The woman hath taken it and I have me no recourse," he muttered angrily. "A curse upon her! But this is not the end of it!"