“No,” said Iras, coldly. “I will retire directly.”
The two gazed at each other.
We know what Esther presented— a beautiful woman, a happy mother, a contented wife.
On the other side, it was very plain that fortune had not dealt so gently with her former rival.
The tall figure remained with some of its grace; but an evil life had tainted the whole person.
The face was coarse; the large eyes were red and pursed beneath the lower lids; there was no color in her cheeks.
The lips were cynical and hard, and general neglect was leading rapidly to premature old age.
Her attire was ill chosen and draggled.
The mud of the road clung to her sandals.
Iras broke the painful silence.
“These are thy children?”
Esther looked at them, and smiled.
“Yes.
Will you not speak to them?”
“I would scare them,” Iras replied.
Then she drew closer to Esther, and seeing her shrink, said,
“Be not afraid.
Give thy husband a message for me.
Tell him his enemy is dead, and that for the much misery he brought me I slew him.”
“His enemy!”
“The Messala.
Further, tell thy husband that for the harm I sought to do him I have been punished until even he would pity me.”
Tears arose in Esther’s eyes, and she was about to speak.
“Nay,” said Iras, “I do not want pity or tears.
Tell him, finally, I have found that to be a Roman is to be a brute. Farewell.”
She moved to go.
Esther followed her.
“Stay, and see my husband.
He has no feeling against you.
He sought for you everywhere.
He will be your friend. I will be your friend.
We are Christians.”
The other was firm.
“No; I am what I am of choice.
It will be over shortly.”
“But”— Esther hesitated— “have we nothing you would wish; nothing to— to— ”
The countenance of the Egyptian softened; something like a smile played about her lips.
She looked at the children upon the floor.
“There is something,” she said.
Esther followed her eyes, and with quick perception answered,
“It is yours.”
Iras went to them, and knelt on the lion’s skin, and kissed them both.
Rising slowly, she looked at them; then passed to the door and out of it without a parting word.
She walked rapidly, and was gone before Esther could decide what to do.
Ben-Hur, when he was told of the visit, knew certainly what he had long surmised— that on the day of the crucifixion Iras had deserted her father for Messala.
Nevertheless, he set out immediately and hunted for her vainly; they never saw her more, or heard of her.
The blue bay, with all its laughing under the sun, has yet its dark secrets.
Had it a tongue, it might tell us of the Egyptian.
Simonides lived to be a very old man.
In the tenth year of Nero’s reign, he gave up the business so long centred in the warehouse at Antioch.