Ben-Hur [201]
of all recollection; paradises from which they went forth in tears, and which they would now return to, if they could, as little children; places of laughter and singing, and associations dearer than any or all the triumphs of after-life.
At the gate on the north side of the old house Ben-Hur stopped. In the corners the wax used in the sealing-up was still plainly seen, and across the valves was the board with the inscription--
"THIS IS THE PROPERTY OF THE EMPEROR."
Nobody had gone in or out the gate since the dreadful day of the separation. Should he knock as of old? It was useless, he knew; yet he could not resist the temptation. Amrah might hear, and look out of one of the windows on that side. Taking a stone, he mounted the broad stone step, and tapped three times. A dull echo replied. He tried again, louder than before; and again, pausing each time to listen. The silence was mocking. Retiring into the street, he watched the windows; but they, too, were lifeless. The parapet on the roof was defined sharply against the brightening sky; nothing could have stirred upon it unseen by him, and nothing did stir.
From the north side he passed to the west, where there were four windows which he watched long and anxiously, but with as little effect. At times his heart swelled with impotent wishes; at others, he trembled at the deceptions of his own fancy. Amrah made no sign--not even a ghost stirred.
Silently, then, he stole round to the south. There, too, the gate was sealed and inscribed. The mellow splendor of the August moon, pouring over the crest of Olivet, since termed the Mount of Offence, brought the lettering boldly out; and he read, and was filled with rage. All he could do was to wrench the board from its nailing, and hurl it into the ditch. Then he sat upon the step, and prayed for the New King, and that his coming might be hastened. As his blood cooled, insensibly he yielded to the fatigue of long travel in the summer heat, and sank down lower, and, at last, slept.
About that time two women came down the street from the direction of the Tower of Antonia, approaching the palace of the Hurs. They advanced stealthily, with timid steps, pausing often to listen. At the corner of the rugged pile, one said to the other, in a low voice,
"This is it, Tirzah!"
And Tirzah, after a look, caught her mother's hand, and leaned upon her heavily, sobbing, but silent.
"Let us go on, my child, because"--the mother hesitated and trembled; then, with an effort to be calm, continued--"because when morning comes they will put us out of the gate of the city to--return no more."
Tirzah sank almost to the stones.
"Ah, yes!" she said, between sobs; "I forgot. I had the feeling of going home. But we are lepers, and have no homes; we belong to the dead!"
The mother stooped and raised her tenderly, saying, "We have nothing to fear. Let us go on."
Indeed, lifting their empty hands, they could have run upon a legion and put it to flight.
And, creeping in close to the rough wall, they glided on, like two ghosts, till they came to the gate, before which they also paused. Seeing the board, they stepped upon the stone in the scarce cold tracks of Ben-Hur, and read the inscription--"This is the Property of the Emperor."
Then the mother clasped her hands, and, with upraised eyes, moaned in unutterable anguish.
"What now, mother? You scare me!"
And the answer was, presently, "Oh, Tirzah, the poor are dead! He is dead!"
"Who, mother?"
"Your brother! They took everything from him--everything--even this house!"
"Poor!" said Tirzah, vacantly.
"He will never be able to help us."
"And then, mother?"
"To-morrow--to-morrow, my child, we must find a seat by the wayside, and beg alms as the lepers do; beg, or--"
Tirzah leaned upon her again, and said, whispering, "Let us--let us die!"
"No!" the mother said, firmly. "The Lord has appointed our times, and we are believers in the Lord. We will wait on him even in this. Come away!"
She caught Tirzah's hand as she spoke, and hastened
At the gate on the north side of the old house Ben-Hur stopped. In the corners the wax used in the sealing-up was still plainly seen, and across the valves was the board with the inscription--
"THIS IS THE PROPERTY OF THE EMPEROR."
Nobody had gone in or out the gate since the dreadful day of the separation. Should he knock as of old? It was useless, he knew; yet he could not resist the temptation. Amrah might hear, and look out of one of the windows on that side. Taking a stone, he mounted the broad stone step, and tapped three times. A dull echo replied. He tried again, louder than before; and again, pausing each time to listen. The silence was mocking. Retiring into the street, he watched the windows; but they, too, were lifeless. The parapet on the roof was defined sharply against the brightening sky; nothing could have stirred upon it unseen by him, and nothing did stir.
From the north side he passed to the west, where there were four windows which he watched long and anxiously, but with as little effect. At times his heart swelled with impotent wishes; at others, he trembled at the deceptions of his own fancy. Amrah made no sign--not even a ghost stirred.
Silently, then, he stole round to the south. There, too, the gate was sealed and inscribed. The mellow splendor of the August moon, pouring over the crest of Olivet, since termed the Mount of Offence, brought the lettering boldly out; and he read, and was filled with rage. All he could do was to wrench the board from its nailing, and hurl it into the ditch. Then he sat upon the step, and prayed for the New King, and that his coming might be hastened. As his blood cooled, insensibly he yielded to the fatigue of long travel in the summer heat, and sank down lower, and, at last, slept.
About that time two women came down the street from the direction of the Tower of Antonia, approaching the palace of the Hurs. They advanced stealthily, with timid steps, pausing often to listen. At the corner of the rugged pile, one said to the other, in a low voice,
"This is it, Tirzah!"
And Tirzah, after a look, caught her mother's hand, and leaned upon her heavily, sobbing, but silent.
"Let us go on, my child, because"--the mother hesitated and trembled; then, with an effort to be calm, continued--"because when morning comes they will put us out of the gate of the city to--return no more."
Tirzah sank almost to the stones.
"Ah, yes!" she said, between sobs; "I forgot. I had the feeling of going home. But we are lepers, and have no homes; we belong to the dead!"
The mother stooped and raised her tenderly, saying, "We have nothing to fear. Let us go on."
Indeed, lifting their empty hands, they could have run upon a legion and put it to flight.
And, creeping in close to the rough wall, they glided on, like two ghosts, till they came to the gate, before which they also paused. Seeing the board, they stepped upon the stone in the scarce cold tracks of Ben-Hur, and read the inscription--"This is the Property of the Emperor."
Then the mother clasped her hands, and, with upraised eyes, moaned in unutterable anguish.
"What now, mother? You scare me!"
And the answer was, presently, "Oh, Tirzah, the poor are dead! He is dead!"
"Who, mother?"
"Your brother! They took everything from him--everything--even this house!"
"Poor!" said Tirzah, vacantly.
"He will never be able to help us."
"And then, mother?"
"To-morrow--to-morrow, my child, we must find a seat by the wayside, and beg alms as the lepers do; beg, or--"
Tirzah leaned upon her again, and said, whispering, "Let us--let us die!"
"No!" the mother said, firmly. "The Lord has appointed our times, and we are believers in the Lord. We will wait on him even in this. Come away!"
She caught Tirzah's hand as she spoke, and hastened