Silver Chalice, The
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what I am doing now: I am placing myself in your power. No, my friend, this is not loot. I do some trading myself. All these articles I expect to sell to merchants in Antioch.” Basil reached out a finger and touched the smooth surface of a ruby as though doubting its reality. “I do not understand,” he said with a frown. “Why do you work as a mere camel driver when you carry such wealth as this?” “To engage in trade a man must go from place to place. Could I afford to fit out a caravan myself?
words, even before avva or imma, and then she took me in to let my grandfather hear. He seemed very old even then. His beard was white and he had all those wrinkles of kindness about his eyes. The tears poured down his cheeks when he heard me say Jesus. “He and my mother were very close,” she went on. “I can remember how concerned they were over the state of my father’s soul.” She sighed deeply. “I love my father, but I am sure now that he will never see the light. Religion to him is all a
as harmful as a cup of hemlock.” “All I can promise,” said Basil earnestly, “is that I will try. That I will try very hard—so that I may be able to see His eyes.” “Oh, Basil, Basil!” cried Deborra happily. “That is all we ask.” CHAPTER VII 1 BASIL TOSSED on his hot couch that night. One train of thought ran continuously through his mind. Had these earnest people the secret of peace and happiness on earth? Would his success in making the silver Chalice depend on the state of mind
you.” He was well advanced in years, but his age had not given him a stoop; in fact, he carried his cadaverous frame with some of the spirit and resiliency of youth. There was nothing of the usual about him: he was curiously ugly; his nose was so bulbous at the end that his nostrils seemed to be hiding away like a camel’s, and his skin was not dark but inclined to gray, as though years of poring over strange books and searching at midnight tombs had given it an unnatural hue. His eyes were
recalling the scene in the Sanhedrin, rose and leaned over the table. “Thou whited wall!” he exclaimed. There was a moment of silence, and then Ananias threw himself back in his chair. He began to laugh. He laughed with so much gusto that his great mound of a stomach shook under the silver-fringed blue girdle about his waist. The bells on his tunic jingled loudly. “I have never liked you,” he said. “You seemed to me as poor in spirit as a tinker’s mule. But now I find myself conceiving an