“The matter is too hard for me,” he went on.  “I must lay it before a full Court of the hundred curators, and what they decide, that will be done.  Still, this is our rule:  to assist those who need and to show mercy, to accord succour to such as deserve it, and to give food to those in distress.  Therefore, whatever the Court, which it will take three days to summon, may decide, in the meanwhile I have the right to give you, and those with you, shelter and provision in the guest-house.  As it chances, it is situated in that part of the village where dwell the lowest of our brethren, who are permitted to marry, so there you will find company of your own sex.”

“I shall be glad of it,” answered Nehushta drily.  “Also I should call them the highest of the brethren, since marriage is a law of God, which God the Father has instituted, and God the Son has blessed.”

“I may not wrangle, I may not wrangle,” replied Ithiel, declining the encounter; “but certainly, that is a lovely babe.  Look.  Its eyes are open and they are beautiful as flowers”; and again he bent down and kissed the child, then added with a groan of remorse, “Alas! sinner that I am, I am defiled; I must purify myself and do penance.”

“Why?” asked Nehushta shortly.

“For two reasons:  I have touched your dress, and I have given way to earthly passion and embraced a child—­twice.  Therefore, according to our rule, I am defiled.”

Then Nehushta could bear it no more.

“Defiled! you puppet of a foolish rule!  It is the sweet babe that is defiled!  Look, you have fouled its garments with your grimy hand and made it weep by pricking it with your beard.  Would that your holy rule taught you how to handle children and to respect honest women who are their mothers, without whom there would be no Essenes.”

“I may not wrangle,” said Ithiel, nervously; for now woman was appearing before him in a new light; not as an artful and a fickle, but as an angry creature, reckless of tongue and not easy to be answered.  “These matters are for the decision of the curators.  Have I not told you so?  Come, let us be going.  I will drive the oxen, although it is not time to loose them from the plough, and do you and your companion walk at a distance behind me.  No, not behind—­in front, that I may see that you do not drop the babe, or suffer it to come to any harm.  Truly it is sweet to look at, and, may God forgive me, I do not like to lose sight of its face, which, it seems to me, resembles that of my sister when she was also in arms.”

“Drop the babe!” began Nehushta; then understanding that this victim of a rule already loved it dearly, and would suffer much before he parted with it, pitying his weakness, she said only, “Be careful that you do not frighten it with your great oxen, for you men who scorn women have much to learn.”