CHAPTER VII
When Ben-Hur left the guest-chamber, there was not nearly so muchlife in his action as when he entered it; his steps were slower,and he went along with his head quite upon his breast. Having madediscovery that a man with a broken back may yet have a sound brain,he was reflecting upon the discovery.
Forasmuch as it is easy after a calamity has befallen to look backand see the proofs of its coming strewn along the way, the thoughtthat he had not even suspected the Egyptian as in Messala's interest,but had gone blindly on through whole years putting himself andhis friends more and more at her mercy, was a sore wound to theyoung man's vanity. "I remember," he said to himself, "she hadno word of indignation for the perfidious Roman at the Fountainof Castalia! I remember she extolled him at the boat-ride on thelake in the Orchard of Palms! And, ah!"--he stopped, and beathis left hand violently with his right--"ah! that mystery aboutthe appointment she made with me at the Palace of Idernee is nomystery now!"
The wound, it should be observed, was to his vanity; and fortunatelyit is not often that people die of such hurts, or even continue a longtime sick. In Ben-Hur's case, moreover, there was a compensation;for presently he exclaimed aloud, "Praised be the Lord God that thewoman took not a more lasting hold on me! I see I did not love her."
Then, as if he had already parted with not a little of the weighton his mind, he stepped forward more lightly; and, coming to theplace on the terrace where one stairway led down to the court-yardbelow, and another ascended to the roof, he took the latter andbegan to climb. As he made the last step in the flight he stoppedagain.
"Can Balthasar have been her partner in the long mask she has beenplaying? No, no. Hypocrisy seldom goes with wrinkled age like that.Balthasar is a good man."
With this decided opinion he stepped upon the roof. There was afull moon overhead, yet the vault of the sky at the moment waslurid with light cast up from the fires burning in the streetsand open places of the city, and the chanting and chorusing ofthe old psalmody of Israel filled it with plaintive harmoniesto which he could not but listen. The countless voices bearingthe burden seemed to say, "Thus, O son of Judah, we prove ourworshipfulness of the Lord God, and our loyalty to the land hegave us. Let a Gideon appear, or a David, or a Maccabaeus, and weare ready."
That seemed an introduction; for next he saw the man of Nazareth.
In certain moods the mind is disposed to mock itself with inappositefancies.
The tearful woman-like face of the Christ stayed with him while hecrossed the roof to the parapet above the street on the north sideof the house, and there was in it no sign of war; but rather as theheavens of calm evenings look peace upon everything, so it looked,provoking the old question, What manner of man is he?
Ben-Hur permitted himself one glance over the parapet, then turnedand walked mechanically towards the summer-house.
"Let them do their worst," he said, as he went slowly on. "I willnot forgive the Roman. I will not divide my fortune with him, norwill I fly from this city of my fathers. I will call on Galileefirst, and here make the fight. By brave deeds I will bring thetribes to our side. He who raised up Moses will find us a leader,if I fail. If not the Nazarene, then some other of the many readyto die for freedom."
The interior of the summer-house, when Ben-Hur, slow sauntering,came to it, was murkily lighted. The faintest of shadows lay alongthe floor from the pillars on the north and west sides. Looking in,he saw the arm-chair usually occupied by Simonides drawn to a spotfrom which a view of the city over towards the Market-place couldbe best had.
"The good man is returned. I will speak with him, unless he beasleep."
He walked in, and with a quiet step approached the chair.Peering over the high back, he beheld Esther nestled in the seatasleep--a small figure snugged away under her father's lap-robe.The hair dishevelled fell over her face. Her breathing was lowand irregular. Once it was broken by a long sigh, ending in a sob.Something--it might have been the sigh or the loneliness in whichhe found her--imparted to him the idea that the sleep was a restfrom sorrow rather than fatigue. Nature kindly sends such reliefto children, and he was used to thinking Esther scarcely more thana child. He put his arms upon the back of the chair, and thought.
"I will not wake her. I have nothing to tell her--nothingunless--unless it be my love.... She is a daughter ofJudah, and beautiful, and so unlike the Egyptian; for thereit is all vanity, here all truth; there ambition, here duty;there selfishness, here self-sacrifice.... Nay, the questionis not do I love her, but does she love me? She was my friend fromthe beginning. The night on the terrace at Antioch, how child-likeshe begged me not to make Rome my enemy, and had me tell her ofthe villa by Misenum, and of the life there! That she should notsee I saw her cunning drift I kissed her. Can she have forgottenthe kiss! I have not. I love her.... They do not know in thecity that I have back my people. I shrank from telling it tothe Egyptian; but this little one will rejoice with me over theirrestoration, and welcome them with love and sweet services of handand heart. She will be to my mother another daughter; in Tirzahshe will find her other self. I would wake her and tell her thesethings, but--out on the sorceress of Egypt! Of that folly I couldnot command myself to speak. I will go away, and wait another anda better time. I will wait. Fair Esther, dutiful child, daughter ofJudah!"
He retired silently as he came.