4 CHAPTER I The month to which we now come is July, the year that of our Lord, 29, and the place Antioch then Queen of the East, and next to Rome the strongest, if not the most populous city in the world. There is an opinion that the extravagance and disiluteness of the age had their origin in Rome, and spread thence throughout the empire, but the great cities but reflected the manners of their mistress on the Tiber. This may be doubted. The reaction of the conquest would seem to have been upon the morals of the conqueror. In Greece she found a spring of corruption, so also in Egypt, and the student having exhausted the subject will close the books assured that the flow of the demoralizing river was from the east westwardly, and that this very city of Antioch, one of the oldest seats of Assyrian power and splendor, was a principal source of the deadly stream. A transport galley entered the mouth of the river Orontes from the blue waters of the sea. It was in the forenoon, the heat was great, yet all on board who could avail themselves of the privilege were on deck, ban her among others. The five years had brought the young Jew to perfect manhood. Though the robe of white linen in which he was attired somewhat masked his form, his appearance was unusually attractive. For an hour and more he had occupied a seat in the shade of the sail, and in that time several fellow passengers of his own nationality had tried to engage him in conversation, but without avail. His replies to their questions had been brief, though gravely courteous and in the Latin tongue. The purity of his speech, his cultivated manners, his reticence, served to stimulate their curiosity the more. Such as observed him closely were struck by an incongruity between his demeanor, which had the ease and grace of a patrician, and certain points of his person. Thus his arms were disproportionately long, and when, to steady himself against the motion of the vessel, he took hold of anything nearby. The size of his hands and their evident power compelled remark. So the wonder who and what he was mixed continually with a wish to know the particulars of his life. In other words, his air cannot be better described than as a notice. This man has a story to tell. The galley, incoming, had stopped at one of the ports of Cyprus and picked up a Hebrew of most respectable appearance, quiet, reserved, paternal. Ben Hur ventured to ask him some questions. The replies won his confidence and resulted finally in an extended conversation. They chanced also that as the galley from Cyprus entered the receiving bay of the Orontes, two other vessels which had been sighted out in the sea met it, and passed into the river at the same time. And as they did so, both the strangers threw out small flags of brightest yellow. There was much conjecture as to the meaning of the signals. At length a passenger addressed himself to the respectable Hebrew for information upon the subject. Yes, I know the meaning of the flags. He replied, They do not signify nationality, they are merely marks of ownership. Has the owner many ships? He has. You know him? I have dealt with him. The passengers looked at the speaker as if requesting him to go on. Ben Hur listened with interest. He lives in Antioch, the Hebrew continued in his quiet way. That he is vastly rich as brought him into notice, and the talk about him is not always kind. There used to be in Jerusalem a prince of very ancient family named Hur. Judah strove to be composed, yet his heart be quicker. The prince was a merchant, with a genius for business. He set on foot many enterprises, some reaching far east, others west. In the great cities he had branch houses. The one in Antioch was in charge of a man, said by some, to have been a family servant called Simonides, Greek in name, yet in Israelite. The master was drowned at sea. His business, however, went on, and was scarcely less prosperous. After a while misfortune overtook the family. The prince's only son, nearly grown, tried to kill the procurator Gratis in one of the streets of Jerusalem. He failed by a narrow chance, and has not since been heard of. In fact, the Romans rage took in the whole house. Not one of the name was left alive. Their palace was sealed up, and is now a rookery for pigeons. The estate was confiscated. Everything that could be traced to the ownership of the hers was confiscated. The procurator cured his hurt with a golden sav. The passengers laughed. "'You mean he kept the property,' said one of them. "'They say so,' the Hebrew replied. "'I am only telling a story as I received it. And to go on, Simonides, who had been the prince's agent here in Antioch, opened trade in a short time on his own account, and in a space incredibly brief became the master-merchant of the city. In imitation of his master he sent caravans to India, and on the sea at present he has galleys enough to make a royal fleet. They say nothing goes amiss with him. His camels do not die, except of old age. His ships never found her. If he throw a chip into the river it will come back to him gold. How long has he been going on thus? Not ten years. He must have had a good start. Yes, they say the procurator took only the prince's property ready at hand. His horses, cattle, houses, land, vessels, goods. The money could not be found, though there must have been some vast sums of it. What became of it has been an unsolved mystery. "'Not to me,' said a passenger with a sneer. "'I understand you,' the Hebrew answered. Others have had your idea. That it furnished old Simonides his start is a common belief. The procurator is of that opinion, or he has been, for twice in five years he has caught the merchant and put him to torture. Judah gripped the rope he was holding with crushing force. "'It is said,' the narrator continued, that there is not a sound bone in the man's body. The last time I saw him he sat in a chair, a shapeless cripple propped against cushions. So tortured!' exclaimed several listeners in a breath. Disease could not have produced such a deformity. Still the suffering made no impression upon him. All he had was his lawfully, and he was making lawful use of it. That was the most they wrung from him. Now, however, he is past persecution. He has a license to trade, signed by Tiberius himself. He paid roundly for it, I warrant. "'These ships are his,' the Hebrew continued, passing the remark. It is accustomed among his sailors to salute each other upon meeting by throwing out yellow flags, sight of which is as much as to say, We have had a fortunate voyage.' The story ended there. When the transport was fairly in the channel of the river, Judah spoke to the Hebrew. What was the name of the merchant's master? Ben Hur, Prince of Jerusalem. What became of the Prince's family? The boy was sent to the galleys. I may say he is dead. One year is the ordinary limit of life under that sentence. The widow and daughter have not been heard of. Those who know what became of them will not speak. They died doubtless in the cells of one of the castles which spot the way-sides of Judea. Judah walked to the pilot's quarter. So absorbed was he in thought that he scarcely noticed the shores of the river, which from sea to city were surpassingly beautiful with orchards of all the Syrian fruits and vines, clustered about villas rich as those of Neapolis. No more did he observe the vessels passing in an endless fleet, nor hear the singing and shouting of the sailors, some in labor, some in merriment.  Once only he awoke to a momentary interest, and that was when someone pointed out the grove of Daphne, discernible from a bend in the river. CHAPTER II When the city came into view, the passengers were on deck, eager that nothing of the scene might escape them. The respectable Jew already introduced to the reader was the principal spokesman. "'The river here runs to the west,' he said in the way of general answer. I remember when it washed the base of the walls. But as Roman subjects we have lived in peace, and, as always happens in such times, trade has had its will. Now the whole river front is taken up with wharves and docks. Yander, the speaker pointed southward, is Mount Caesius, or as these people love to call it, the mountains of Orantis, looking across to its brother Amnus in the north, and between them lies the plain of Antioch. Farther on are the black mountains, whence the ducks of the kings bring the purest water to wash the thirsty streets and people. That they are forests and in wilderness state, dense and full of birds and beasts. "'Where is the lake?' one asked. "'Over north there. You can take horse if you wish to see it, or better, a boat, for a tributary connects it with the river.' "'The Grove of Daphne,' he said to a third inquirer, nobody can describe it, only beware. It was begun by Apollo and completed by him. He prefers it to Olympus. People go there for one look, just one, and never come away. They have a saying which tells it all. Better be a worm and feed on the mulberries of Daphne than a king's guest. "'Then you advise me to stay away from it?' "'Not I. Go you will. He goes. Cynic philosopher, virile boy, women, and priests all go. So sure am I of what you will do that I assume to advise you. Do not take quarters in the city. That will be loss of time. But go at once to the village in the edge of the Grove. The way is through a garden, under the spray of fountains. The lovers of the God and his panellin maid built the town, and in its porticoes and paths and thousand retreats you will find characters and habits and sweets and kinds elsewhere impossible. But the wall of the city, there it is, the masterpiece of Zareias, the master of mural architecture. All eyes followed his pointing finger. This part was raised by order of the first of the Seleucidae. Three hundred years have made it part of the rock it rests upon. The defense justified the Incomium, high, solid, and with many bold angles it curved southwardly out of view. On the top there are four hundred towers, each a reservoir of water. The Hebrew continued, "'Look now, over the wall, tall as it is, see in the distance two hills, what you may know as the rival crests of Sulpius. The structure on the farthest one is the Citadel, garrisoned all the year round by a Roman legion. Opposite it this way rises the temple of Chupiter, and under that the front of the ligates residence, a palace full of offices, and yet a fortress against which a mob would dash harmlessly as a south wind.' At this point the sailors began taking in sail, whereupon the Hebrew exclaimed heartily, "'See!  The bridge yonder, over which the road to Seleucia is carried, marks the limit of navigation. What the ship unloads for further transit the camel takes up there. Above the bridge begins the island upon which Kelsinicus built his new city, connecting it with five great viaducts, so solid time has made no impression upon them, nor floods nor earthquakes. Of the main town, my friends, I have only to say you will be happier all your lives for having seen it.' As he concluded the ship turned and made slowly for her wharf under the wall, bringing her more fairly to view the life with which the river at that point was possessed. Finally the lines were thrown, the oars shipped, and the voyage was done. Then Ben-Hers sought the respectable Hebrew. "'Let me trouble you a moment before saying farewell.' The man bowed assent. "'Your story of the merchant has made me curious to see him.  The acquaintance gave a sharp look before he answered. "'I may save you mortification. He is not a money lender.' "'Nor am I a money borrower,' said Ben-Hers, smiling at the other's shrewdness. The man raised his head and considered an instant. One would think,' he then replied, that the richest merchant in Antioch would have a house for business corresponding to his wealth. But if you would find him in the day, follow the river to Yon Bridge, under which he quarters in a building that looks like a buttress of the wall. Before the door there is an immense landing. Always cover with cargoes, come and to go. The fleet that lies moored there is his. You cannot fail to find him.' "'I give you thanks.' The peace of our fathers go with you. And with you.' With that they separated. Two street-porters, loaded with his baggage, received Ben-Hers' orders upon the wharf. "'To the citadel,' he said, a direction which implied an official military connection. Two great streets, cutting each other at right angles, divided the city into quarters. A curious and immense structure, called the Nymphaeum, arose at the foot of the one running north and south. When the porters turned south there, the newcomer, though fresh from Rome, was amazed at the magnificence of the avenue. On the right and left there were palaces, and between them extended indefinitely double colonnades of marble, leaving separate ways for footmen, beasts, and chariots, the whole under shade and cooled by fountains of incessant flow. Ben-Hers was not in mood to enjoy the spectacle. The story of Simonides haunted him. Arrived at the Elmphallus, a monument of four arches wide as the streets, superbly illustrated and erected to himself by Epiphanes, the Eighth of the Seleucidae, he suddenly changed his mind. "'I will not go to the citadel to-night,' he said to the porters. "'Take me to the con nearest the bridge on the road to Seleucia.' The party faced about, and in good time he was deposited in a public house of primitive but ample construction, within stone's throw of the bridge under which old Simonides had his quarters. He lay upon the housetop through the night. In his inner mind live the thought. "'Now, now I will hear of home, and mother, and the dear little Terza. If they are on earth, I will find them.' End of chapter. Next day early, to the neglect of the city, Ben Hur sought the house of Simonides. Through an embattled gateway he passed to a continuity of warbs. He advanced up the river, midst a busy press, to the Seleucian Bridge, under which he paused to take in the scene. There, directly under the bridge, was the merchant's house, a mass of gray stone, unhewn, referable to no style, looking as the voyager had described it, like a buttress on the wall against which it leaned. Two immense doors in front communicated with the wharf. Some holes near the top, heavily barred, served as windows. Weeds waved from the crevices, and in places black moss splotched the otherwise bald stones. The doors were open. Through one of them business went in, through the other it came out, and there was hurry, hurry in all its movements. On the wharf there were piles of goods in every kind of package, and groups of slaves, stripped to the waist, going about in the abandon of labor. Below the bridge lay a fleet of galleys, some loading, others unloading. A yellow flag blew out from each mass-head. From fleet in wharf, and from ship to ship, the bondmen of traffic passed in clamorous counter-currents. Above the bridge, across the river, a wall rose from the water's edge, over which towered the fanciful cornices and turrets of an imperial palace, covering every foot of the island spoken of in the Hebrew's description. But with all its suggestions Ben Hur scarcely noticed it. Now at last he thought to hear of his people. This certainly, if Simonides had indeed been his father's slave. But would the man acknowledge the relation? That would be to give up his riches and the sovereignty of trades so royally witnessed on the wharf and river. And what was of still greater consequence to the merchant, it would be to forego his career in the midst of amazing success, and yield himself voluntarily once more a slave. Simple thought of the demand seemed a monstrous audacity. Stripped of diplomatic address, it was to say, You are my slave. Give me all you have and yourself. Yet Ben Hur derived strength for the interview from faith in his rights and the hope uppermost in his heart. But the story to which he was yielding were true.  For the wealth, be it said in justice, he cared nothing. When he started to the door determined in mind, it was with a promise to himself, Let him tell me of Mother and Terza, and I will give him his freedom without account. He passed boldly into the house. The interior was that of a vast depot where, in ordered spaces, and under careful arrangement, goods of every kind were heaped and pent. Though the light was murky and the air stifling, men moved about briskly, and in places he saw workmen with saws and hammers making packages for shipments. Down a path between the piles he walked slowly, wondering if the man of whose genius there were here such abounding proofs could have been his father's slave. If so, to what class had he belonged? If a Jew was he the son of a servant? Or was he a debtor, or a debtor's son? Or had he been sentenced and sold for theft? These thoughts, as they passed, in no wise disturbed the growing respect for the merchant of which he was each instant more and more conscious. A peculiarity of our admiration for another is that it is always looking for circumstances to justify itself. At length the man approached and spoke to him. What would you have? I would see Simonides the merchant. Will you come this way? By a number of paths left in the stowage they finally came to a flight of steps, ascending which he found himself on the roof of the depot and in front of a structure which cannot be better described than as a lesser stone house built upon another, invisible from the landing below and out west of the bridge under the open sky. The roof, hemmed in by a low wall, seemed like a terrace, which to his astonishment was brilliant with flowers. In the rich surrounding the house sat squat, a plain square block, unbroken except by a doorway in front. A dustless path led to the door, through a bordering of shrubs of Persian rows in perfect bloom. Breathing a sweet at our perfume he followed the guide. At the end of a darkened passage within they stopped before a curtain half-parted. The man called out. A stranger to see the master. A clear voice replied, In God's name, let he mentor. A Roman might have called the apartment into which the visitor was ushered, his atrium. The walls were paneled, each panel was compartmented like a modern office desk, and each compartment crowded with labeled folios all filimo with age and use. Between the panels and above and below them were borders of wood once white, now tinted like cream, and carved with marvellous intricacy of design. Above cornice of gilded balls the ceiling rose in pavilion style until it broke into a shallow dome set with hundreds of pains of violet mica, permitting a flood of light deliciously reposeful. The floor was carpeted with gray rugs so thick that an invading foot fell half-buried and soundless. In the mid-light of the room were two persons, a man resting in a chair high-backed, broad-armed, and lined with pliant cushions, and at his left, leaning against the back of the chair, a girl well forward into womanhood. At sight of them Ben-Hurve felt the blood redden his forehead, bowing as much to recovery himself as in respect, he lost the lifting of the hands and the shiver and shrink with which the sitter caught sight of him, an emotion as swift to go as it had been to come. When he raised his eyes the two were in the same position, except the girl's hand had fallen and was resting lightly upon the elder's shoulder, both of them were regarding him fixedly.  The last word was addressed to the girl. "'I am the Simonides of whom you speak, by birthright a Jew,' the man made answer, in a voice singularly clear. "'I am Simonides and a Jew, and I return you your salutation, with prayer to know who calls upon me.'" Ben-Hurve looked as he listened, and where the figure of the man should have been in healthful roundness there was only a formless heap sunk in the depths of the cushions and covered by a quilted robe of somber silk. Over the heap shone a head royally proportioned, the ideal head of a statesman and conqueror, a head broad of base and dome-like in front, such as Angelo would have modeled for Caesar. White hair dropped in thin locks over the white brows, deepening the blackness of the eyes shining through them like sullen lights. The face was bloodless, and much puffed with folds, especially under the chin. In other words, the head and face were those of a man who might move the world more readily than the world could move him. A man to be twice twelve times tortured into the shapeless cripple he was, without a groan, much less a confession. A man to yield his life but never a purpose or a point. A man born in armor and assailable only through his loves. To him Ben Hur stretched his hands, open and palm up, as he would offer peace at the same time he asked it. I am Judah, son of Ithamar, late head of the house of Hur, and a prince of Jerusalem. The merchant's right hand lay outside the robe, a long, thin hand, articulate to deformity with suffering. It closed tightly, otherwise there was not the slightest expression of feeling of any kind on his part. Nothing to warrant an inference of surprise or interest. Nothing but this calm answer. The princes of Jerusalem of the pure blood are always welcome in my house. You are welcome. Give the young man a seat, Esther. The girl took an ottoman nearby and carried it to Ben Hur. As she arose from placing the seat, their eyes met. The peace of our Lord be with you, she said, modestly, be seated and at rest. When she resumed her place by the chair she had not divined his purpose. The powers of woman go not so far. If the matter is of finer feeling, such as pity, mercy, sympathy, that she detects, and therein is a difference between her and man which will endure as long as she remains, by nature, alive to such feelings. She was simply sure he brought some wound of life for healing. Ben Hur did not take the offered seat, but said, deferentially, I pray the good master Simonides that he will not hold me an intruder. Coming up the river yesterday I heard he knew my father. I knew the Prince Hur. We were associated in some enterprises lawful to merchants who find profit in lands beyond the sea and the desert. But sit, I pray you, and Esther, some wine for the young men. Nehemiah speaks of a son of Hur who once ruled the half-part of Jerusalem. An old house, very old by the faith. In the days of Moses and Joshua even some of them found favor in the sight of the Lord, and divided honors with those princes among men. It can hardly be that their descendant, linearly come to us, will refuse a cup of wine, fat of the genuine vine of Sorek, grown on the south hillsides of Hebron. By the time of the conclusion of this speech, Esther was before Ben Hur with a silver cup filled from a vase upon a table, a little removed from the chair. She offered the drink with downcast face. He touched her hand gently to put it away. Again their eyes met, whereat he noticed that she was small, not nearly to his shoulder in height, but very graceful, and fair and sweet of face, with eyes black and inexpressibly soft. She is kind and pretty, he thought, and looks as Terza would were she living. Poor Terza. Then he said aloud, No, thy father, if he is thy father? He paused. I am Esther the daughter of Simonides, she said with dignity. Then fair Esther, thy father, when he has heard my further speech, will not think worse of me if yet I am slow to take his wine of famous extract, nor lest I hope not to lose grace in thy sight. Stand thou here with me a moment. Both of them, as in common cause, turned to the merchant. Simonides, he said, firmly, my father at his death had a trusted servant of thy name, and it has been told me that thou art the man. There was a sudden start of the wrenched limbs under the robe, and the thin hand clenched. Esther, Esther, the man called sternly, here not there, as thou art thy mother's child in mine, here not there, I say. The girl looked once from father to visitor, then she replaced the cup upon the table, and went dutifully to the chair. Her countenance sufficiently expressed her wonder and alarm. Simonides lifted his left hand and gave it into hers, lying lovinly upon his shoulder, and said dispassionately, I have grown old in dealing with men, old before my time. If he who told thee that, whereof thou speakest, was a friend acquainted with my history, and spoke of it not harshly, he must have persuaded thee that I could not be else than a man distrustful of my kind. The God of Israel help him who, at the end of life, is constrained to acknowledge so much. My loves are few, but they are. One of them is a soul which, he carried the hand holding his to his lips, in manner unmistakable, a soul which to this time has been unselfishly mine, and such sweet comfort that, were taken from me, I would die. Peter's head drooped until her cheek touched his. The other love is but a memory, of which I will say further that, like a benison of the Lord, it hath accomplished to contain a whole family, if only—his voice lowered and trembled—if only I knew where they were. Benhur's face suffused, and, advancing a step, he cried impulsively, My mother and sister—oh, it is of them you speak! Esther, as if spoken to, raised her head, but Simonides returned to his calm and answered coldly, Hear me to the end. Because I am that I am, and because of the loves of which I have spoken, before I make return to thy demand, touching my relations to the Prince, her, and as something which of right should come first, do thou show me proofs of who thou art? Is thy witness in writing, or cometh it in person? The demand was plain, and the right of it indisputable. Benhur blushed, clasped his hands, stammered, and turned away at loss. Simonides pressed him. The proofs—the proofs, I say!—set them before me, lay them in my hands. And Benhur had no answer. He had not anticipated the requirement. And now that it was made, to him as never before came the awful fact that the three years in the galley had carried away all the proofs of his identity. Mother and sister gone. He did not live in the knowledge of any human being. Many there were acquainted with him, but that was all. Had Quintus Arius been present, what could he have said more than where he found him, and that he believed the pretender to be the son of her? But as will presently appear in full, the brave Roman sailor was dead. Judah had felt the loneliness before, to the core of life the sense struck him now. He stood, hands clasped, face averted in stupefaction. Simonides respected his suffering, and waited in silence. To Simonides. He said at length, I can only tell my story, and I will not that unless you stay judgment so long, and with good will deign to hear me. Speak, said Simonides, now indeed, master of the situation. Speak, and I will listen the more willingly that I have not denied you to be the very person you claim yourself. Peter proceeded then, and told his life hurriedly, yet with the feeling which is the source of all eloquence, but as we are familiar with it down to his landing at Mycenum, in company with Arius, returned victorious from the Aegean, at that point we will take up the words. My benefactor was loved and trusted by the Emperor, who heaped him with honourable rewards. The merchants of the East contributed magnificent presence, and he became doubly rich among the rich of Rome. May a Jew forget his religion, or his birthplace, if it were the holy land of our fathers? The good man adopted me his son by formal rites of law, and I strove to make him just return. No child was ever more dutiful to father than I to him. He would have had me a scholar. In art, philosophy, rhetoric, oratory, he would have furnished me the most famous teacher. I declined his insistence because I was a Jew, and could not forget the Lord God, or the glory of the prophets, or the city set on the hills by David and Solomon. Oh, ask you why I accepted any of the benefactions of the Roman? I loved him. Next place I thought with his help array influences which would enable me one day to unseal the mystery close-locking the fate of my mother and sister. And to these there was yet another motive of which I shall not speak, except to say it controlled me so far that I devoted myself to arms, and the acquisition of everything deemed essential to thorough knowledge of the art of war. In the palestre and circuses of the city I toiled, and in the camps no less, and in all of them I have a name, but not that of my father's. The crowns I won, and on the walls of the villa by my synom there are many of them. All came to me as the son of Arius, the du'umvir. In that relation only am I known among Romans. Instead fast pursuit of my secret aim, I left Rome for Antioch, intending to accompany the consul Maxentius in the campaign he is organizing against the Parthians. Master of personal skill in all arms I seek now the higher knowledge pertaining to the conduct of bodies of men in the field. The consul has admitted me one of his military family. But yesterday, as our ship entered the Orontes, two other ships sailed in with us, flying yellow flags. A fellow passenger and countryman from Cyprus explained that the vessels belonged to Simonides, the master merchant of Antioch. He told us also who the merchant was, his marvellous success in commerce, and of his fleets and caravans, and their coming and going, and not knowing I had interest in the theme beyond my associate listeners. He said Simonides was a Jew, once the servant of the Prince Her, nor did he conceal the cruelties of Gratis, or the purpose of their inflection. At this illusion Simonides bowed his head, and as if to help him conceal his feelings, and her own deep sympathy, the daughter hid her face on his neck. Directly he raised his eyes and said, in a clear voice, I am listening. Oh, good Simonides! Ben Hur then said, advancing a step, his whole soul seeking expression. I see thou art not convinced, and that yet I stand in the shadow of thy distrust. The merchant held his features, fixed as marvell, and his tongue as still. And not less clearly I see the difficulties of my position. Ben Hur continued. All my Roman connection I can prove. I have only to call upon the consul, now the guest of the governor of the city, but I cannot prove the particulars of thy demand upon me. I cannot prove I am my father's son. They who could serve me in that, alas, they are dead or lost. He covered his face with his hands, whereupon Esther arose, and, taking the rejected cup to him, said, The wine is of the country we all so love. Drink, I pray thee. The voice was sweet as that of Rebecca, offering drink at the well near Nahora, the city. He saw there were tears in her eyes, and he drank, saying, Daughter of Simonides, thy heart is full of goodness, and merciful art thou to let the stranger share it with thy father. Be thou blessed of our God. I thank thee. Then he addressed himself to the merchant again.  Only let me say I did not seek thy return to servitude nor account of thy fortune. In any event, I would have said, as now I say, that all which is product of thy labor ingenious is thine, keep it in welcome. I have no need of any part thereof. When the good Quintus, my second father, sailed on the voyage which was his last, he left me his heir, princely rich. If therefore thou dost think of me again, be it with remembrance of this question which, as I do swear by the prophets and Jehovah, thy God and mine, was the chief purpose of my coming here. What dost thou know? What canst thou tell me, of my mother and Terza, my sister? She who should be in beauty and grace even is this one, thy sweetness of life, if not thy very life. O what canst thou tell me, of them?" The tears ran down Esther's cheeks, but the man was willful. In a clear voice he replied, I have said I knew the Prince Ben-Hur. I remember hearing of the misfortune which overtook his family. I remember the bitterness with which I heard it. He who wrought such misery to the widow of my friend is the same who, in the same spirit, hath since wrought upon me. I will go further and say to you I have made diligent quest concerning the family, but I have nothing to tell you of them. They are lost. Ben-Hur uttered a great groan. Then it is another hope broken. He said, struggling with his feelings. I am used to disappointments. I pray you pardon my intrusion, and if I have occasioned you annoyance, forgive it because of my sorrow. I have nothing now to live for, but vengeance. Farewell. At the curtain he turned and said simply, I thank you both. Peace go with you, the merchant said. Esther could not speak for sobbing. And so he departed. End of chapter. Book 4, Chapter 4 of Ben-Hur. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain and is read by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Ben-Hur, A Tale of the Christ by Lou Wallace. Book 4, Chapter 4. Scarcely was Ben-Hur gone when Simonides seemed to wake as from sleep. His countenance flushed. The sullen light of his eyes changed to brightness, and he said cheerily, Esther, ring, quick! She went to the table and rang a service-bell. One of the panels in the wall swung back, exposing a doorway which gave admittance to a man who passed round to the merchant's front, and saluted him with a half-salam. Malek here, nearer, to the chair, the master said, imperiously, I have a mission which shall not fail, though the sun should. Harken! A young man is now descending to the storeroom, tall, comely, and in the garb of Israel. Follow him, his shadow not more faithful, and every night send me a report of where he is, what he does, and the company he keeps. And if, without discovery, you overhear his conversations, report them word for word, together with whatever will serve to expose him, his habits, motives, life. Understand you? Go quickly. Stay, Malek. If he leave the city, go after him. And mark you, Malek, be as a friend. If he bespeak you, tell him what you will to the occasion most suited, accept that you are in my service. Of that, not a word. Haste! Make haste! The man saluted as before, and was gone. Then Simonides rubbed his one hands together, and laughed. What is the day, daughter? He said, in the midst of the mood. What is the day? I wish to remember it for happiness come. See, and look for it laughing. And laughing, tell me, Esther. The merriment seemed unnatural to her, and as if to entreat him from it, she answered sorrowfully, Woe's me, Father, that I should ever forget this day! His hands fell down the instant, and his chin, dropping upon his breast, lost itself in the muffling folds of flesh composing his lower face. True, most true, my daughter, he said, without looking up. This is the twentieth day of the fourth month. Today, five years ago, my Rachel, thy mother, fell down and died. They brought me home broken as thou seeest me, and we found her dead of grief. Oh, to me she was a cluster of camfire and vineyards of Vangetti. I have gathered my myrrh with my spice. I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey. We laid her away in a lonely place, in a tomb cut in the mountain, no one near her. And in the darkness she left me a little light, which the years have increased to a brightness of mourning. He raised his hand and rested upon his daughter's head. Dear Lord, I thank thee that now in my ester my lost Rachel liveth again. Directly he lifted his head and said, as with a sudden thought, Is it not clear day outside? It was when the young man came in. Then that ambimelec come and take me to the garden, where I can see the river and the ships. And I will tell thee, dear ester, why but now my mouth filled with laughter, and my tongue with singing, and my spirit was like to a row or to a young heart upon the mountains of spices. In answer to the bell a servant came, and at her bidding pushed the chair, set on little wheels for the purpose, out of the room to the roof of the lower house, called by him his garden. Out through the roses, and by beds of lesser flowers, all triumphs of careful attendance, but now unnoticed, he was rolled to a position from which he could view the palace tops over against him on the island, the bridge in lessening perspective to the farther shore, and the river below the bridge crowded with vessels, all swimming amidst the dancing splendors of the early sun upon the rippling water. There the servant left him with ester. The much shouting of laborers, and their beating and pounding, did not disturb him any more than the trampling of people on the bridge floor almost overhead, being as familiar to his ear as the view before him to his eye, and therefore unnoticeable except as suggestions of prophets in promise. Ester sat on the arm of the chair nursing his hand, and waiting his speech, which came at length in the calm way, the mighty will having carried him back to himself. When the young man was speaking, Esther, I observed thee, and thought thou wert one by him. Her eyes fell, as she replied, Speak you of faith, Father, I believed him. In thy eyes, then, he is the lost son of the Prince her. If he is not, she hesitated, and if he is not, Esther, I have been thy handmaiden, Father, since my mother answered the call of the Lord God. By thy side I have heard and seen thee deal in wise ways, with all manner of men seeking prophet, holy and unholy. And now I say, if indeed the young man be not the Prince he claims to be, then before me falsehood never played so well the part of righteous truth. By the glory of Solomon's daughter thou speakest earnestly, dost thou believe thy father, his father's servant? I understood him to ask of that as something he had but heard. For a time Simonite's gaze swam among his swimming ships, though they had no place in his mind. Well, thou art a good child, Esther, of genuine Jewish shrewdness, and of years and strength to hear a sorrowful tale. Therefore give me heed, and I will tell you of myself, and of thy mother, and of many things pertaining to the past not in thy knowledge or thy dreams, things withheld from the persecuting Romans for a hope's sake, and from thee that thy nature should grow towards the Lord straight as the reed to the Son. I was born in a tomb in the valley of Hinnom, on the south side of Zion. My father and mother were Hebrew bond-servants, tenders of the fig and olive trees growing, with many vines, in the king's garden, hard by Siloam, and in my boyhood I helped them. They were of the class bound to serve for ever. They sold me to the Prince Her, then next to Herod the king, the richest man in Jerusalem. From the garden he transferred me to his storehouse in Alexandria of Egypt, where I came of age. I served him six years, and in the seventh, by the law of Moses, I went free. Esther clapped her hands lightly. Oh, then thou art not his father's servant. Nay, daughter, hear! Now in those days there were lawyers in the cloisters of the temple who disputed vehemently, saying the children of servants bound for ever took the condition of their parents. But the Prince Her was a man righteous in all things, and an interpreter of the law after the straightest sect, though not of them. He said I was a Hebrew servant bought in the true meaning of the great law-giver, and by sealed writings which I yet have, he set me free. And my mother? Esther asked. Thou shalt hear all, Esther, be patient. Before I am through thou shalt see it were easier for me to forget myself than thy mother. At the end of my service I came up to Jerusalem to the Passover. My master entertained me. I was in love with him already, and I prayed to be continued in his service. He consented, and I served him yet another seven years, but as a hired son of Israel. In his behalf I had charge of ventures on the sea by ships, and of ventures on land by caravans eastward to Suza and Persepolis, in the lands of silk beyond them. Perilous passages were they, my daughter. But the Lord blessed all I undertook. I brought home vast gains for the Prince, and richer knowledge for myself, without which I could not have mastered the charges since fallen to me. One day I was a guest in his house in Jerusalem. A servant entered with some sliced bread on a platter. She came to me first. It was then I saw thy mother, and loved her, and took her away in my secret heart. After a while a time came when I sought the Prince to make her my wife. He told me she was bondservant for ever. But if she wished, he would set her free that I might be gratified. She gave me love for love, but was happy where she was and refused her freedom. I prayed in besought. Being again and again after long intervals she would be my wife. She all the time said, if I would become her fellow in servitude. Our father Jacob served yet another seven years for his Rachel. Could I not as much for mine? But thy mother said I must become as she, to serve for ever. I came away, but went back. Look ester, look here. He pulled out the lobe of his left ear. See you not the scar of the all? I see it, she said, and oh, I see how thou stits love my mother. Love her, ester. She was to me more than the shulamite to the singing king, fairer, more spotless, a fountain of gardens, a well of living waters, and streams from Lebanon. The master, even as I required him, took me to the judges, and back to his door, and thrust the all through my ear into the door, and I was his servant for ever. So I won my Rachel, and was ever loved like mine. Ester stooped and kissed him, and they were silent, thinking of the dead. My master was drowned at sea, the first sorrow that ever fell upon me. The merchant continued. There was mourning in his house, and in mine here in Antioch, my abiding place at the time. Now ester, mark you, when the good prince was lost, I had risen to be his chief steward, with everything of property belonging to him in my management and control. Judge you how much he loved and trusted me. I hastened to Jerusalem to render account to the widow. She continued me in the stewardship. I applied myself with greater diligence, the business prospered and grew year by year. Ten years passed. Then came the blow which you heard the young man tell about, the accident, as he called it, to the procurator gratis. The roaming gave it out an attempt to assassinate him. Under that pretext, by leave from Rome, he confiscated to his own use the immense fortune of the widow and children. More stopped he there. That there might be no reversal of the judgment he removed all the parties interested. From that dreadful day to this, the family of her has been lost. The son, whom I had seen as a child, was sentenced to the galleys. The widow and daughter are supposed to have been buried in some of the many dungeons of Judea, which, once closed upon the doomed, are like sepulchres sealed in locked. They passed from the knowledge of men as utterly as if the sea had swallowed them unseen. We could not hear how they died, nay, not even that they were dead. Esther's eyes were dewy with tears. Thy heart is good, Esther, good as thy mother's was, and I pray it have not the fate of most good hearts to be trampled upon by the unmerciful and blind. I went up to Jerusalem to give help to my benefactress, and was seized at the gate of the city and carried to the sunken cells of the Tower of Antonia. Why I knew not, until Gratis himself came and demanded of me the moneys of the house of her, which he knew, after our Jewish custom of exchange, were subject to my draft in the different marts of the world. He required me to sign to his order. I refused. He had the houses, lands, goods, ships, and movable property of those I served. He had not their moneys. I saw, if I kept favour in the sight of the Lord, I could rebuild their broken fortunes. I refused the tyrant's demands. He put me to torture. My will held good, and he set me free, nothing gained. I came home and began again, in the name of Simonides of Antioch, head of the Prince Hur of Jerusalem. Thou knowest, Esther, how I have prospered, that the increase of the millions of the Prince in my hands was miraculous. Thou knowest how, at the end of three years, while going up to Caesarea, I was taken, and a second time tortured by Gratis, to compel a confession that my goods and moneys were subject to his order of confiscation. Thou knowest he failed as before. In his body I came home and found my Rachel dead of fear and grief for me. The Lord our God reigned, and I lived. From the Emperor himself I bought immunity and license to trade throughout the world. Today, praise be he who maketh the clouds his chariot and walketh upon the winds. Today, Esther, that which was in my hands for stewardship is multiplied into talents sufficient to enrich a Caesar. He lifted his head proudly. Their eyes met, each read the other's thought. What shall I with the treasure, Esther? he asked, without lowering his gaze. My father, she answered in the low voice, did not the rightful owner call for it but now. Still his look did not fail. And thou, my child, shall I leave thee a beggar? Nay, father, am not I, because I am thy child his bondservant? And of whom was it written, Strength and honour are her clothing, and she shall rejoice in time to come? A gleam of ineffable love lighteth his face, as he said, The Lord hath been good to me in many ways, but thou, Esther, art the sovereign excellence of his favour. He drew her to his breast and kissed her many times. Here now, he said with clearer voice, Here now why I laughed this morning. The young man faced me the apparition of his father in comely youth. My spirit arose to salute him. I felt my trial days were over, and my labours ended. Hardly could I keep from crying out. I longed to take him by the hand and show him the balance I had earned, and say, Lo, tis all thine, and I am thy servant, ready now to be called away. And so I would have done, Esther, so I would have done. But that moment three thoughts rushed to restrain me. I will be sure he is my master's son. Such was the first thought. If he is my master's son, I will learn somewhat of his nature. Of those born to riches, b'think you, Esther, how many there are in whose hands riches are but breeding curses. He paused while his hands clutched, and his voice shrilled with passion. Esther, consider the pains I endured at the Romans' hands. Nay, not grottuses alone! The merciless wretches who did his bidding the first time and the last were Romans, and they all alike laughed to hear me scream. Consider my broken body, and the years I have gone shorn of my creature. Consider thy mother yonder in her lonely tomb, crushed of soul as I of body. Consider the sorrows of my master's family if they are living, and the cruelty of their taking off if they are dead. Consider all, and with heaven's love about thee. Tell me, daughter, shall not a hair fall or a red drop run in expiation? Tell me not, as the preachers sometimes do. Tell me not that vengeance is the Lord's. Does he not work his will harmfully as well as in love by agencies? Has he not his men of war more numerous than his prophets? Is not his the law, eye for eye, hand for hand, foot for foot? Oh, in all these years I have dreamed of vengeance, and prayed and provided for it, and gathered patience from the growing of my power, thinking and promising as the Lord liveth, it will one day buy me punishment of the wrongdoers. And when speaking of his practice with arms the young man said it was for a nameless purpose, I named the purpose even as he spoke, vengeance. And that, Esther, that it was, the third thought which held me still and hard while his pleading lasted, and made me laugh when he was gone. Esther caressed the faded hands, and said as if her spirit with his were running forward to results, he is gone, will he come again? I, Malik the faithful, goes with him, and will bring him back when I am ready. And when will that be, Father? Not long, not long, he thinks all his witness is dead. There is one living who will not fail to know him if he be indeed my master's son. His mother? Nay, daughter, I will set the witness before him. Till then let us rest the business with the Lord. I am tired. Call Abimelech. Esther called the servant, and they returned into the house. CHAPTER V When Ben Hur salied from the Great Warehouse it was with the thought that another failure was to be added to the many he had already met in the quest for his people. And the idea was depressing exactly in proportion as the objects of his quest were dear to him. It curtained him round about with a set of utter loneliness on earth, which more than anything else serves to eke from a soul cast down its remaining interest in life. Through the people and the piles of goods he made way to the edge of the landing, and was tempted by the cool shadows darkening the river's depth. The lazy current seemed to stop and wait for him. In counteraction of the spell, the saying of the Voyager flashed into memory, "'Better be a worm and feed upon the mulberries of Daphne than a king's guest.' He turned, and walked rapidly down the landing and back to the con. "'The road to Daphne,' the steward said, surprised at the question Ben Hur put to him. "'You have not been here before?' "'Well, count this the happiest day of your life. You cannot mistake the road. The next street to the left, going south, leads straight to Mount Sopias, crowned by the altar of Jupiter and the amphitheater. Keep it to the third cross-street, known as Herod's Colonnade. Turn to your right there, and hold the way through the old city of Seleuces, to the bronze gates of Epiphanes. There the road to Daphne begins, and may the gods keep you.'" A few directions respecting his baggage, and Ben Hur set out. The Colonnade of Herod was easily found, thence to the brazen gates, under a continuous marble portico, he passed with a multitude mixed of people from all the trading nations of the earth. It was about the fourth hour of the day when he passed out the gate, and found himself one of a procession apparently interminable, moving to the famous grove. The road was divided into separate ways for footmen, for men on horses, and men in chariots, and those again into separate ways for outgoers and in-comers. The lines of division were guarded by low balustrating, broken by massive pedestals, many of which were surmounted with statuary. Right and left of the road extended margins of suede, perfectly kept, relieved at intervals by groups of oak and sycamore trees, and vine-clad summer-houses for the accommodation of the weary, of whom on the return side there were always multitudes. The ways of the footmen were paved with redstone, and those of the riders strewn with white sand compactly rolled, but not so solid as to give back an echo to hoof or wheel. The number and variety of fountains at play were amazing, all gifts of visiting kings, and called after them. Out southwest to the gates of the grove, the magnificent thoroughfare stretched a little over four miles from the city. In his wretchedness of feeling, Ben Hur barely observed the royal liberality which marked the construction of the road. Nor more did he at first notice the crowd going with him. He treated the processional displays with like indifference. To say truth, besides his self-absorption, he had not a little of the complacency of a Roman visiting the provinces, fresh from the ceremonies which daily eddied round and round the golden pillar set up by Augustus as the center of the world. It was not possible for the provinces to offer anything new or superior. He rather availed himself of every opportunity to push forward through the companies in the way, and too slow going for his impatience. By the time he reached Heraklia, a suburban village intermediate the city and the grove, he was somewhat spent with exercise and began to be susceptible of entertainment. Once a pair of goats led by a beautiful woman, woman and goats alike brilliant with ribbons and flowers, attracted his attention. Then he stopped to look at a bowl of mighty girth and snow white, covered with vines freshly cut and bearing on its broad back a naked child in a basket, the image of a young Bacchus squeezing the juice of ripened berries into a goblet and drinking with libational formulas. As he resumed his walk he wondered whose altars would be enriched by the offerings. A horse went by with clipped mane, after the fashion of the time, his rider superbly dressed. He smiled to observe the harmony of pride between the man and the brute. Often after that he turned his head at hearing the rumble of wheels and the dull thud of hoofs. Unconsciously he was becoming interested in the styles of chariots and charioteers as they rustled past him, going and coming. Nor was it long until he began to make notes of the people around him. He saw they were of all ages, sexes and conditions, and all in holiday attire. One company was uniformed in white, another in black, some bore flags, some smoking sensors, some went slowly singing hymns, others stepped to the music of flutes and tebrets. As such were the going to Daphne every day in the year, what a wondrous sight Daphne must be! At last there was a clapping of hands and a burst of joyous cries. Following the pointing of many fingers he looked and saw upon the brow of a hill the temple gate of the consecrated grove. The hymns swelled to louder strains, the music quickened time, and, borne along by the impulsive current and sharing the common eagerness, he passed in, and, romanized in taste as he was, fell to worshipping the place. Rearward of the structure which graced the entranceway, a purely Grecian pile, he stood upon a broad esplanade paved with polished stone, around a merestless exclamatory multitude in gaest colors relieved against the iridescent spray flying crystal white from fountains. For him, off to the south-west, dustless paths radiated out into a garden and beyond that into a forest over which rested a veil of pale blue vapor. Ben Hur gazed wistfully, uncertain where to go. A woman that moment exclaimed, "'Beautiful! But where to now?' Her companion, wearing a chaplet of bays, laughed and answered, "'Go to, thou pretty barbarian! The question implies an earthly fear. And did we not agree to leave all such behind an Antioch with a rusty earth? The winds which blow here are respirations of the gods. Let us give ourselves to waftage of the winds. But if we should get lost?' "'Oh, thou timid! No one was ever lost in Daphne, except those on whom her gates close for ever.' "'And who are they?' He asked, still fearful. "'Such as have yielded to the charms of the place and chosen it for life and death. Hark! Stand we here, and I will show you of whom I speak.' Upon the marble pavement there was a scurry of sandled feet. The crowd opened, and a party of girls rushed about the speaker and his fair friend, and began singing and dancing to the tebrets they themselves touched. The woman, scared, clung to the man, who put an arm about her, and with kindled face kept time to the music with the other hand overhead. The hair of the dancers floated free, and their limbs blushed through the robes of gauze which scarcely draped them. Words may not be used to tell of the voluptuousness of the dance. One brief round, and they darted off through the yielding crowd lightly as they had come. "'Now what, thank you?' cried the man to the woman. "'Who are they?' she asked. "'Devadasi, priestesses devoted to the temple of Apollo. There is an army of them. They make the chorus and celebrations. This is their home. Sometimes they wander off to other cities, but all they make is brought here to enrich the house of the divine musician. Shall we go now?' Next minute the two were gone. Benher took comfort in the assurance that no one was ever lost in Daphne, and he too set out. There he knew not. A sculpture reared upon a beautiful pestle in the garden attracted him first. It proved to be the statue of a centaur. An inscription informed the unlearned visitor that it exactly represented Chiron, the beloved of Apollo and Diana, instructed by them in the mysteries of hunting, medicine, music, and prophecy. The inscription also bade the stranger look out at a certain part of the heavens at a certain hour of the clear night, and he would behold the dead alive among the stars, withered Jupiter had transferred the good genius. The wisest of the centaurs continued nevertheless in the service of mankind. In his hand he held a scroll on which, graven in Greek, were paragraphs of a notice. "'Oh, traveller! Art thou a stranger?' One. Harken to the singing of the brooks, and fear not the rain of the fountains, so will the nighities learn to love thee. Two. The invited breezes of Daphne are Zephyrus and Oster, gentle ministers of life. They will gather sweets for thee. When Eurus blows Diana is elsewhere hunting. When Boreus blusters go hide, for Apollo is angry. Three. The shades of the grove are thine in the day. At night they belong to Pan and his dryities. Disturb them not. Four. Eat of the lotus by the brooksides sparingly, unless thou wouldst have surcease of memory, which is to become a child of Daphne. Five. Walk thou round the weaving spider, to his arachne at work for Minerva. Six. Rest thou behold the tears of Daphne, break but a bud from a laurel-bow, and die. Heed thou, and stay, and be happy. Benher left the interpretation of the mystic notice to others fast enclosing him, and turned away as the white bull was led by. The boy sat in the basket, followed by a procession. After them again, the woman with the goats, and behind her the flute and tebret players, and another procession of gift-bringers. With her go they, asked a bystander. Another made answer. The bull to Father Joe, the goat, did not Apollo once keep the flocks of Admitus? Aye, the goat to Apollo. The goodness of the reader is again besought in favor of an explanation. A certain facility of accommodation in the matter of religion comes to us after much intercourse with people of a different faith. Gradually we attain the truth that every creed is illustrated by good men who are entitled to our respect, but whom we cannot respect without courtesy to their creed. To this point Benher had arrived. Neither the years in Rome, nor those in the galley had made any impression upon his religious faith, he was yet a Jew. In his view, nevertheless, it was not an impiety to look for the beautiful in the grove of Daphne. The remark does not interdict the further saying, if his scruples had been ever so extreme, not improbably he would at this time have smothered them. He was angry, not as the irritable, from chafing of a trifle, nor was his anger like the fools, pumped from the wills of nothing, to be dissipated by a reproach or a curse. It was the wrath peculiar to ardent natures, rudely awakened by the sudden annihilation of a hope, dream, if you will, in which the choice's happinesses were thought to be certainly in reach. In such case nothing intermediate will carry off the passion, the quarrel is with fate. Let us follow the philosophy a little further, and say to ourselves, it were well in such quarrels, if fate were something tangible, to be dispatched with a look or a blow, or a speaking personage with whom high words were possible, then the unhappy mortal would not always end the affair by punishing himself. In ordinary mood Ben Hur would not have come to the grove alone, or coming alone he would have availed himself of his position in the consul's family, and made provision against wandering idly about, unknowing and unknown. He would have had all the points of interest in mind, and gone to them under guidance, as in the dispatch of business. Or wishing to squander days of leisure in the beautiful place, he would have had in hand a letter to the master of it all, whoever he might be. This would have made him a sightseer, like the shouting herd he was accompanying, whereas he had no reverence for the deities of the grove, nor curiosity, a man in the blindness of bitter disappointment. He was adrift, not waiting for fate but seeking it as a desperate challenger. Everyone is known this condition of mind, though perhaps not all in the same degree. Everyone will recognize it as the condition in which he has done brave things with apparent serenity, and every one reading will say, fortunate for Ben Hur, if the folly which now catches him, is but a friendly harlequin with whistle and painted cap, and not some violence with a pointed sword pitiless. CHAPTER VI Ben Hur entered the woods with the processions. He had not interest enough at first to ask where they were going, yet to relieve him from absolute indifference. He had a vague impression that they were in movement to the temples, which were the central objects of the grove, supreme in attractions. Presently, as singers dreamfully play with a flitting chorus, he began repeating to himself, Better be a worm and feed on the mulberries of Daphne than a king's guest. Then of the much repetition arose questions importunate of answer. Was life in the grove so very sweet? Wherein was the charm? Did it lie in some tangled depth of philosophy? Or was it something, in fact, something on the surface, discernible to everyday wakeful senses? Every year, thousands, for swearing the world, gave themselves to service here. Did they find the charm? And was it sufficient, when found, to induce forgetfulness profound enough to shut out of mind the infinitely diverse things of life? Those that sweeten, and those that embitter, hopes hovering in the near future as well as sorrows born of the past? If the grove were so good for them, why should it not be good for him? He was a Jew. Could it be that the excellences were for all the world but children of Abraham? Forthwith he bent all his faculties to the task of discovery, unmindful of the singing of the gift-bringers and the quips of his associates. In the quest the sky yielded him nothing. It was blue, very blue, and full of twittering swallows. So was the sky over the city. Further on, out of the woods at his right hand, a breeze poured across the road, splashing him with a wave of sweet smells, blent of roses and consuming spices. He stopped, as did others, looking the way the breeze came. A garden over there, he said, to a man at his elbow. Rather some priestly ceremony in performance, something to Diana, or pan, or a deity of the woods. The answer was in his mother tongue. Benher gave the speaker a surprised look. A Hebrew? he asked him. The man replied with a deferential smile. I was born within a stone's throw of the marketplace in Jerusalem. Benher was proceeding to further speech when the crowd surged forward, thrusting him out of the side of the walk next to the woods, and carrying the stranger away. The customary gown and staff, a brown cloth on the head tied by a yellow rope, and a strong Judean face to avouch the garments of honest right, remained in the young man's mind, a kind of summary of the man. This took place at a point where a path into the woods began, offering a happy escape from the noisy processions. Benher availed himself of the offer. He walked first into a thicket which, from the road, appeared in a state of nature, close, impenetrable, a nesting-place for wild birds. A few steps, however, gave him to see the master's hand even there. The shrubs were flowering, or fruit-bearing. Under the bending branches the ground was pranked with brightest blooms. Over them the jasmine stretched its delicate bonds. From lilac and rose, and lily and tulip, from oleander and strawberry tree, all old friends in the gardens of the valleys about the city of David, the air, lingering Orion haste, loaded itself with exhalations day and night, and that nothing might be wanting to the happiness of the nymphs and niads down through the flower-lighted shadows of the mass, a brook when its course gently, and by many winding ways. Out of the thicket, as he proceeded, on his right and left issued the cry of the pigeon and the cooing of turtleduffs. Blackbirds waited for him, and bided his coming close. A nightingale kept its place fearless, though he passed in arm's length. A quail ran before him at his feet, whistling to the brood she was leading, and as he paused for them to get out of his way, a figure crawled from a bed of honeyed musk, brilliant with balls of golden blossoms. Ben Hur was startled. Had he indeed been permitted to see a satyr at home? The creature looked up at him, and showed in its teeth a hooked pruning-knife. He smiled at his own scare, and lo! the charm was evolved. Peace without fear, peace a universal condition, that it was. He sat upon the ground beneath the citron-tree, which spread its gray roots sprawling to receive a branch of the brook. The nest of a tit-mouse hung close to the bubbling water, and the tiny creature looked out of the door of the nest into his eyes. Verily, the bird is interpreting to me. He thought. It says, I am not afraid of you, for the law of this happy place is love. The charm of the grove seemed plain to him. He was glad, and determined to render himself one of the lost in Daphne. In charge of the flowers and shrubs, and watching the growth of all the dumb excellences everywhere to be seen, could not he, like the man with the pruning-knife in his mouth, forgo the days of his troubled life, forgo them forgetting and forgotten? But by and by his Jewish nature began to stir within him. The charm might be sufficient for some people. Of what kind were they? Love is delightful. Ah! How pleasant as a successor to wretchedness like his! But was it all there was of life? All? There was an unlikeness between him and those who buried themselves contentedly here. They had no duties. They could not have had. But he— God of Israel! He cried aloud, springing to his feet, with burning cheeks. Mother! Terza! Cursed be the moment! Cursed the place in which I yield myself happy in your loss! He hurried away through the thicket, and came to a stream flowing with the volume of a river between banks of masonry, looking at intervals by gated sluice ways. A bridge carried the path he was traversing across the stream, and standing upon it he saw other bridges, no two of them alike. Under him the water was lying in a deep pool, clear as a shadow. Down a little way it tumbled with a roar over rocks, then there was another pool and another cascade, and so on out of view. These in pools and resounding cascades said, plainly as inarticulate things can tell a story, the river was running by permission of a master, exactly as the master would have it, tractable as became a servant of the gods. Forward from the bridge he beheld a landscape of wide valleys and irregular heights, with groves and lakes and fenceful houses linked together by white paths and shining streams. The valleys were spread below, that the river might be poured upon them for refreshment in days of drought, and they were as green carpets figured with beds and fields of flowers, and flecked with flocks of sheep, white as balls of snow, and the voices of shepherds following the flocks were heard afar. As if to tell him of the pious inscription of all he beheld, the altars out under the open sky seemed countless, each with a white gowned figure attending it, while processions in white went slowly hither and thither between them, and the smoke of the altars half risen hung collected in pale clouds over the devoted places. Here, there, happy in flight, intoxicated in pause, from object to object, point to point, now in the meadow, now on the heights, now lingering to penetrate the groves and observe the processions, then lost in efforts to pursue the paths and streams which trended measly into dim perspectives, to end finally in—ah!—what might be a fitting end to a scene so beautiful? What adequate mysteries were hidden behind an introduction so marvellous? Here and there the speech was beginning. His gaze wandered, so that he could not help the conviction, forced by the view, and as the sum of it all, that there was peace in the air and on the earth, an invitation everywhere to come and lie down here and be at rest. Suddenly a revelation dawned upon him. The grove was, in fact, a temple, one far-reaching, wall-less temple. Never anything like it. The architect had not stopped to bother about columns and porticoes, proportions or interiors, or any limitation upon the epic he sought to materialize. He had simply made a servant of nature. Art can go no further. So the cunning man of Jupiter and Callisto built the old Arcadia, and in this, as in that, the genius was Greek. From the bridge Ben Hur went forward into the nearest valley. He came to a flock of sheep. The shepherd was a girl, and she beckoned him, Come! Farther on the path was divided by an altar, a pedestal of black nice, capped with a slab of white marble, deftly foliated, and on that a brazier of bronze holding a fire. Close by it a woman, seeing him, waved a wand of willow, and as he passed called him, Stay! And the temptation in her smile was that of passionate youth. One yet further he met one of the processions, at its head a troop of little girls, nude, except as they were covered with garlands, piped their shrill voices into a song. Then a troop of boys, also nude, their bodies deeply sun-browned, came dancing to the song of the girls. Behind them the procession, all women, bearing baskets of spices and sweets to the altars. Women clad in simple robes, careless of exposure. As he went by, they held their hands to him and said, Stay! And go with us! One a Greek sang a verse from an acreon, For to-day I take or give, For to-day I drink and live, For to-day I beg or borrow, Who knows about the silent morrow. But he pursued his way indifferent, and came next to a grove luxuriant, in the heart of the veil at the point where it would be most attractive to the observing eye. As it came close to the path he was travelling, there was a seduction in its shade, and through the foliage he caught the shining of what appeared a pretentious statue, so he turned aside and entered the cool retreat. The grass was fresh and clean. The trees did not crowd each other, and they were of every kind native to the east, blended well with strangers adopted from far quarters. Here grouped in exclusive companionship palm trees plumed like queens, their sycamores overtopping laurels of darker foliage, and evergreen oaks rising verdantly, with cedars vast enough to be kings on Lebanon, and mulberries, and terribents so beautiful that it is not hyperbole to speak of them as blown from the orchards of paradise. The statue proved to be a Daphne of wondrous beauty. Hardly, however, had he time to more than glance at her face, at the base of the pedestal a girl and a youth were lying upon a tiger's skin asleep in each other's arms. Close by them the implements of their service, his axe and sickle, her basket, flung carelessly upon a heap of fading roses. The exposure startled him. Back in the hush of the perfumed thicket he discovered, as he thought, that the charm of the great grove was peace without fear, and almost yielded to it. Now in this sleep in the days broad glare, this sleep at the feet of Daphne, he read a further chapter to which only the vaguest illusion is sufferable. The law of the place was love, but love without law. And this was the sweet peace of Daphne. This the life's end of her ministers. For this kings and princes gave of their revenues. For this a crafty priesthood subordinated nature, her birds and brooks and lilies, the river, the labor of many hands, the sanctity of altars, the fertile power of the sun. It would be pleasant now to record that as Ben Hur pursued his walk assailed by such reflections he yielded somewhat to sorrow for the votaries of the great outdoor temple, especially for those who by personal service kept it in a state so surpassingly lovely. How they came to the condition was not any longer a mystery. The motive, the influence, the inducement were before him. Some there were no doubt caught by the promise held out to their troubled spirits of endless peace, and it consecrated abode to the beauty of which, if they had not money, they could contribute their labor. This class implied intellect peculiarly subject to hope and fear. But the great body of the faithful could not be classed with such. Those nets were wide, and their meshes small, and hardly may one tell what all his fishermen landed, this less for that they cannot be described than because they ought not to be. Enough that the mass were of the Siborites of the world, and of the herds in number, vaster and in degree, lower. Devotes of the unmixed sensualism to which the east was almost wholly given. Not to any of the exaltations, not to the singing God or his unhappy mistress, not to any philosophy requiring for its enjoyment the calm of retirement, nor to any service for the comfort there is in religion, nor to love in its holier sense were they abiding their vows. Good reader, why shall not the truth be told here? Why not learn that at this age there were in all earth but two peoples capable of exaltations of the kind referred to. Those who lived by the law of Moses, and those who lived by the law of Brahma, they alone could have cried you better a law without love than a love without law. Besides that, sympathy is in great degree a result of the mood we are in at the moment. Anger forbids the emotion. On the other hand, it is easiest taken on when we are in a state of most absolute self-satisfaction. Ben Hur walked with a quicker step, holding his head higher, and while not less sensitive to the delightfulness of all about him, he made his survey with calmer spirit, though sometimes with curling lip. That is to say, he could not so soon forget how nearly he himself had been imposed upon. In front of Ben Hur there was a forest of cypress trees, each a column tall and straight as a mast. Venturing into the shady precinct, he heard a trumpet gaily blown, and an instant after saw lying upon the grass close by, the countrymen whom he had run upon in the road going to the temples. The man arose and came to him. "'I give you peace again,' he said pleasantly.  Hark! I hear the wheels of the chariots. They are taking the track.' Ben Hur listened a moment, then completed the introduction by laying his hand upon the man's arm, and saying, "'I am the son of Arius the Doomvere, and thou?' "'I am Malik, a merchant of Antioch.' "'Well, good Malik, the trumpet and the grind of wheels and the prospect of diversion excite me. I have some skill in the exercises. In the play-stray of Rome I am not unknown. Let us to the course.' Malik lingered to say quickly, "'The Doomvere was a Roman, yet I see his son in the garments of a Jew.' "'The noble Arius was my father by adoption,' Ben Hur answered. "'Ah, I see, and beg pardon.' Passing through the belt of forest, they came to a field with a track laid out upon it, in shape and extent exactly like those of the stadia. The course, or track proper, was of soft earth, rolled and sprinkled, and on both sides, defined by ropes, stretched loosely upon upright javelins. For the accommodation of spectators, and such as had interests reaching forward of the mere practice, there were several stands shaded by substantial awnings, and provided with seats in rising rows. In one of the stands the two newcomers found places. Ben Hur counted the chariots as they went by, nine in all. "'I commend the fellows,' he said, with good will. Here in the East I thought they aspired to nothing better than the two. But they are ambitious, and play with royal fours. Let us study their performance.' Eight of the fours passed the stand, some walking, others on the trot, and all unexceptionally handled. Then the ninth one came on the gallop. Ben Hur burst into exclamation. "'I have been in the stables of the emperor, Malak, but by our father Abraham of blessed memory I never saw the like of these.' The last four was then sweeping past. All at once they fell into confusion. Someone on the stand uttered a sharp cry.  Some of the spectators nearest him began to laugh. "'They should respect his beard at least. Who is he?' asked Ben Hur. A mighty man from the desert, somewhere beyond Moab, an owner of camels and herds, and horses descended, they say, from the races of the first pharaoh, shake illderum by name and title.' Thus Malak replied. The driver, meanwhile, exerted himself to quiet the four but without a veil. Each ineffectual effort excited the shake the more. "'How bad and seize him!' yelled the patriarch shrilly. "'Run! Fly! Do you hear my children?' The question was to his attendants, apparently of the tribe. "'Do you hear? They are desert-porn like yourselves. Catch them! Quick!' The plunging of the animals increased. "'A cursed Roman!' and the shake shook his fist at the driver. "'Did he not swear he could drive them?  They should run swift as eagles, and with a temper of handbred lambs he swore. "'Cursed be he!  See them, the priceless! Let him touch one of them with a lash and—' The rest of the sentence was lost in a furious grinding of his teeth. "'To their heads, some of you, and speak them.  Oh, fool! Fool that I was to put trust in a Roman!' Some of the shrewder of the old man's friends planted themselves between him and the horses. An opportune failure of breath on his part helped the stratagem. Ben Hur, thinking he comprehended the shake, sympathized with him. Far more than mere pride of property, more than anxiety for the result of the race. In his view it was within the possible, for the patriarch, according to his habits of thought and his ideas of the inestimable, to love such animals with a tenderness akin to the most sensitive passion. They were all bright bays, unspotted, perfectly matched, and so proportioned as to seem less than they really were. Delicate ears pointed small heads. The faces were broad and full between the eyes. The nostrils and expansion disclosed membrane so deeply red as to suggest the flashing of flame. The necks were arches, overlaid with fine mane so abundant as to drape the shoulders and breast, while in happy consonance the forelocks were like ravelings of silk and veils. Between the knees and the fetlocks the legs were flat as an open hand, but above the knees they were rounded with mighty muscles, needful to upbear the shapely, close-knit bodies. The hoofs were like cups of polished agate, and in rearing and plunging they whipped the air, and sometimes the earth, with tails glossy black and thick and long. The shake spoke of them as the priceless, and it was a good saying. In this second and closer look at the horses, Ben Hur read the story of their relation to their master. They had grown up under his eyes, objects of his special care in the day, his visions of pride in the night, with his family at home in the black tent, out on the shadeless bosom of the desert, as his children beloved. That they might win him a triumph over the haughty and hated Roman, the old man had brought his loves to the city, never doubting they would win if only he could find a trusty expert to take them in hand, not merely one with skill but of a spirit which their spirits would acknowledge. Unlike the colder people of the West, he could not protest the driver's inability and dismiss him civilly. An Arab and a shake he had to explode and rive the air about him with clamor. Before the patriarch was done with his expletives, a dozen hands were at the bits of the horses and their quiet assured. About that time another chariot appeared upon the track, and, unlike the others, driver, vehicle, and races were precisely as they would be presented in the Circus the day of final trial. For a reason which will presently be more apparent, it is desirable now to give this turnout plainly to the reader. There should be no difficulty in understanding the carriage known to us all as the chariot of classical renown. One has but to picture to himself a dre with low wheels and broad axle surmounted by a box open at the tail end. Such was the primitive pattern. Artistic genius came along in time, and, touching the rude machine, raised it into a thing of beauty. That, for instance, in which aurora, riding in advance of the dawn, is given to our fancy. The jockeys of the ancients, quite as shrewd and ambitious as their successors of the present, called their humblest turnout a two, and their best in grade a four. In the latter they contested the Olympics and the other festival shows founded in imitation of them. The same sharp gamesters preferred to put their horses to the chariot all abreast. And for distinction they termed the two next to the pole yoke-steeds, and those on the right and left outside, tracemates. It was their judgment also, that by allowing the fullest freedom of action the greatest speed was attainable. Accordingly, the harness resorted to was peculiarly simple. In fact there was nothing of it save a collar round the animal's neck, and a trace fixed to the collar, unless the lines in a halter fall within the term. Wanting to hitch up, the masters pinned a narrow wooden yoke, or cross-tree, near the end of the pole, and by straps passed through rings at the end of the yoke, buckled the latter to the collar. The traces of the yoke-steeds they hitched to the axle, those of the tracemates to the top rim of the chariot bed. They remained then but the adjustment of the lines, which, judged by the modern devices, was not the least curious part of the method. For this there was a large ring at the forward extremity of the pole, securing the ends to that ring first, they parted the lines so as to give one to each horse, and proceeded to pass them to the driver, slipping them separately through rings on the inner side of the halters at the mouth. With this plain generalization in mind, all further desirable knowledge upon the subject can be had by following the incidents of the scene occurring. The other contestants had been received in silence. The last-comer was more fortunate. While moving towards the stand from which we are viewing the scene, his progress was signalized by loud demonstrations, by clapping of hands and cheers, the effect of which was to send a retention upon him exclusively. His yoke-steeds, it was observed, were black, while the tracemates were snow-white. In conformity to the exacting cannons of Roman taste, they had all four been mutilated. That is to say, their tails had been clipped, and to complete the barbarity their shorn mains were divided into knots tied with flaring red and yellow ribbons. In advancing, the stranger at length reached a point where the chariot came into view from the stand, and its appearance would of itself have justified the shouting. The wheels were very marvels of construction. Stout bands of burnished bronze reinforced the hubs, otherwise very light. The spokes were sections of ivory tusks, set in with a natural curve outward to perfect the dishing. Considered important then as now. One's tires held the fellies, which were of shining ebony. The axle, in keeping with the wheels, was tipped with heads of snarling tigers done in brass, and the bed was woven of willow wands gilded with gold. The coming of the beautiful horses and resplendent chariot drew Ben Hur to look at the driver with increased interest. Who was he? When Ben Hur asked himself the question first, he could not see the man's face or even his full figure. Yet the air and manner were familiar, and pricked him keenly with a reminder of a period long gone. Who could it be? Nearer now, and the horses approaching at a trot. From the shouting and the gorgeousness of the turnout it was thought he might be some official favorite or famous prince. Such an appearance was not inconsistent with exalted rank. Menace often struggled for the crown of leaves, which was the prize of victory. Nero and Commodus, it will be remembered, devoted themselves to the chariot. Ben Hur arose and forced a passage down nearly to the railing in front of the lower seat of the stand. His face was earnest, his manner eager. And directly the whole person of the driver was in view. A companion rode with him. In classic description a myrtleess. Permitted men of high estate indulging their passion for the race course. Ben Hur could see only the driver, standing erect in the chariot, with the reins past several times round his body. A handsome figure, scantily covered by a tunic of light-reg cloth. In the right hand a whip. In the other the arm raised and lightly extended the four lines. The pose was exceedingly graceful and animated. The cheers and clapping of hands were received with statuesque indifference. Ben Hur stood transfixed. His instinct and memory had served him faithfully. The driver was Massala. By the selection of horses, the magnificence of the chariot, the attitude, and the display of person, above all by the expression of the cold, sharp eagle features, imperialized in his countrymen by sway of the world through so many generations, Ben Hur knew Massala unchanged as haughty, confident, and audacious as ever the same in ambition, cynicism, and mocking insouciance.


Hey everyone! We're here to tell you all about the Summer Reading Club at the West Vancouver Memorial Library. Yes! Summer Reading Club is still on. We have something for everyone in all grades and at all reading levels. If you're starting kindergarten in September or you've already finished kindergarten grade one or grade two as of June 2022, this is a video just for you. We are looking for kids who enjoy listening to someone read to them, kids who can do a bit of reading on their own with some help, and kids who can read totally on their own. Do you know a preschooler? There's a club just for them. The Read To Me Club. Find more information at wvml.ca slash src. Summer Reading Club really is for everyone. Now, in just a few short minutes, we're going to tell you what Summer Reading Club is, why you should join, how to sign up, and some of our very favorite books that you can find at the library. Summer Reading Club challenges you to read or have someone read to you for 50 days in the summer, 15 minutes a day. And the best part is that you can read or listen to whatever you want, wherever you want, and however you want. There are lots of reasons to join the Summer Reading Club besides getting to choose what you read. Number one, it's totally free. It doesn't cost you any money and you don't even need a library card. Reason number two, the trophy. If you are currently in school or will be starting kindergarten in September, this is important. The school with the highest number of kids registered will win a trophy. We have three trophies based on school size to make things fair. Reason number three, prizes and programs. Summer Reading Club members get exclusive chances to enter prize straws and are the first to hear about fun programs for the whole family, including nature programs, coding, and so much more.  Reason number four, make your brain happy. Did you know that even when you read or someone reads to you, you are getting smarter? Reason number five, the medal. Every kid who reads for at least 15 minutes a day or 50 days over the summer will win their very own medal. It's true. Signing up for Summer Reading Club has never been easier. You don't even need to come into the library to register, though we'd be glad to see you. All you need to do is go to wvml.ca slash src, our Summer Reading Club webpage, and enter your first name, grade, school, email address, or parents' email address, and boom, you are registered. You'll receive a confirmation email with your Summer Reading Club starter kit within 48 hours. And then starting in July, you'll get a weekly email, our Summer Reading Club scoop, with book recommendations, program suggestions, and so much more. Need extra help registering? No problem. Just come on in and see us at the youth desk. Once you're signed up for the club, print out your WVMO reading tracker that you get in your SRC starter kit email. For every day that you read for at least 15 minutes, color in one circle. When you've colored in 50 circles at the end of the summer, you have completed Summer Reading Club. Don't have a printer? Pick up the reading tracker next time you're in the library. There's also lots to do at the library this summer. Check in at the youth desk each week to get a sticker and earn a chance to win a prize. Can't make it to the library every week? That's okay. Check in when you can and we will get you all caught up. There also might be some SRC goodies available too. I have a question. I don't live in West Vancouver, but I go to school here. Can I still join? Yes, you can. In fact, we want you to join the Summer Reading Club at the West Vancouver Memorial Library so that your school earns points to get that trophy. Hey, I have a question too. I'm going away for the summer and I won't be able to get to the library. Can I still join? That's awesome. I hope you enjoy your trip. Remember, you can always sign up for the Summer Reading Club at wvml.ca slash src. You don't have to come into the library if you aren't able to. You can participate wherever you are. Wait, 50 books seems like way too many. I'm worried. Oh, don't be worried. And remember, the Summer Reading Club is all about the time you read or the time that someone reads to you. It's not about who can read the most on their own or who can read the fastest. You can also choose how you read or how you listen to books. You can listen to a digital audiobook on the Libby app. Your library card lets you read or listen to picture books, easy readers, and chapter books on your smartphone, tablet, or computer. Ask an adult for help setting up your account or ask us at the library. Listen to a playaway. These are self-contained audiobook players you can borrow from the library. We have lots of popular titles for all ages. Listen to a wonder book. These are awesome new books with an audiobook player built right into the book's cover. You can check them out from the library just like a regular book. Read to someone or have someone read to you. Read in any language or multiple languages. We have kids books in all these different languages that you can borrow from the library.  Now, you don't have to read these books. You don't have to read library books at all. We just can't resist telling you about some of our favorites. My Day with Gonggong by Sienna Lee, illustrated by Elaine Chen, the same artist who made all the cool summer reading club art for this year. Maid is dropped off at Gonggong's house for the day and she is not looking forward to it. They travel through Chinatown and Gonggong says hello to all of his friends and neighbors. But Maid is so hungry and just wants to go home. But Gonggong has a special surprise for her at the end. Fluffy Big Whiskers, cuteness explosion by Steven W. Martin. Have you ever seen something so cute it makes your heart want to explode? Well, if you haven't, let me introduce you to Fluffy Big Whiskers. Look at her. She's all poofy and purple and has big round eyes. While Fluffy has a problem, she cannot find a friend because anyone who gets too close to her, kaboom! They explode because she is just that cute. Well, as you can imagine, this makes Fluffy pretty lonely and really sad until the day she finds the purr big friend. If you're like me and you like fluffy cats and funny friendships, you'll want to check this one out. I can hear change humming in its loudest, proudest song. I don't fear change coming and so I sing along. Amanda Gorman's Change Sings is a hopeful book about how small changes lead to big, beautiful things. If you like books that rhyme and have bold, bright illustrations, I think this is one you'll want to read again and again with someone you love. Flower Garden by Renee Cruella. Two girls are shrunk down to the size of ants in a forest of flowers. Anna is excited by the adventure, but Tess just wants to go home. If you love nature, this is the graphic novel for you. Move over, Ivy and Bean. There are new best friends in town. Or are there? In Carter Higgins' series starter, Best Friends-ish, 2nd grader, Audrey L wants to be the best at something. Anything. So when she's asked to be the class ambassador for the new kid, Audrey W, Audrey L wants to be amazing at it. And be best friends with Audrey W. The only thing is, she's not sure they have anything in common, except their first name. You can find all of these books in our library catalog, but please make sure to place a whole diet even if there's a long waiting list, because that means we can order more copies. We can also find these books on our Lucky Day shelf. Lucky Day books are special extra copies of some of our most popular books at the library. You can only find them if you visit us in the library. Finding one means that you get to skip the wait list. It's like winning the lottery! So that's everything you need to know to join the Summer Reading Club. If you still have questions, visit wvml.ca slash src to learn more, or call us, email us, or even come visit us in the second floor youth department. We are pumped for an awesome Summer of Reading and can't wait for you to join the club. Remember, no matter what is going on, you always belong at the library, and we can't wait to see you. Happy Reading!


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