Was not this a slave? And yet
here was the fine feeling of a princess. He stood, for once in his
life, at a loss what to do. He could not depart without the greatest
awkwardness, and yet, if he lingered, he sacrificed his comfort.
Presently he exclaimed helplessly:
"Rachel, do thou tell me what to say or do. It seems that I but sink
myself the deeper in the quicksand of thy disapproval at every struggle
to escape. Do thou lead me out."
He had met a slave, justed with an equal and flung up his hands in
surrender to his better. He did not confess this to himself, but his
words were admission enough. Never would his high-born spirit have
permitted him to make such a declaration to one slavish in soul.
The straightforward acknowledgment of defeat and the genuine concern in
his voice were irresistible. She answered him at once, distantly and
calmly.
"Thou, as an Egyptian, hast honored me, a Hebrew, with thy notice. I
have deserved neither gift nor fee."
"Nay, but let us put it differently," he replied. "I, as a man, have
given thee, a maiden, offense, and having repented, would appease thee
with a peace-offering. Believe me, I do not jest. By the gentle
goddesses, I fear to speak," he added breathlessly.
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