The warden rattled the bolts impatiently. "Come, there's room outside!"
he said. "I have not time to stand here all day!"

"Pardon us," said the priest, gently. "We go; yet, warden, ere we
depart, may I ask you to deal leniently with that poor wretch?" and he
pointed to the Jew, who was now crouched shivering in his chains.

"We but do as we are ordered," returned the warden unfeelingly. "The
officers will be here presently with the scourge; we can not prevent
that."

The peddler winced, and Nathan raised a face full of pity. "Warden," he
said, "if you have a drop of mercy in your heart, if you hope for mercy
for yourself, treat him as a man. Let him not die for want of a pittance
of water."

He turned the sleeve of his loose garment back to expose the emaciated
arm with the bones showing through the loose skin. "There," he said,
"let that touch your heart, if heart you have, and spare him. Poor
Abraham!"--turning to the peddler--"did I not see you here, the joy of
my release would be unspeakable."

But Abraham only turned to bestow a look of hate and malice upon the
priest.

Then Yusuf and Nathan passed out into the pure, fresh air, now growing
cool with the approach of evening. Never did air seem so pure and sweet;
never did swallows twitter so gladly; never did the peak of Abu Kubays
shine so gloriously in the sun; never did the voices of people sound so
joyous or their faces beam so brightly.