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- Джек Лондон
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I
was
glad
,
a
little
later
,
when
I
could
have
talk
with
Miriam
.
Pilate
's
wife
had
found
opportunity
to
tell
me
about
her
.
She
was
of
old
royal
stock
.
Her
sister
was
wife
of
Philip
,
tetrarch
of
Gaulonitis
and
Batanæa
.
Now
this
Philip
was
brother
to
Antipas
,
tetrarch
of
Galilee
and
Peræa
,
and
both
were
sons
of
Herod
,
called
by
the
Jews
the
"
Great
.
"
Miriam
,
as
I
understood
,
was
at
home
in
the
courts
of
both
tetrarchs
,
being
herself
of
the
blood
.
Also
,
when
a
girl
,
she
had
been
betrothed
to
Archelaus
at
the
time
he
was
ethnarch
of
Jerusalem
.
She
had
a
goodly
fortune
in
her
own
right
,
so
that
marriage
had
not
been
compulsory
.
To
boot
,
she
had
a
will
of
her
own
,
and
was
doubtless
hard
to
please
in
so
important
a
matter
as
husbands
.
It
must
have
been
in
the
very
air
we
breathed
,
for
in
no
time
Miriam
and
I
were
at
it
on
the
subject
of
religion
.
Truly
,
the
Jews
of
that
day
battened
on
religion
as
did
we
on
fighting
and
feasting
.
For
all
my
stay
in
that
country
there
was
never
a
moment
when
my
wits
were
not
buzzing
with
the
endless
discussions
of
life
and
death
,
law
,
and
God
.
Now
Pilate
believed
neither
in
gods
,
nor
devils
,
nor
anything
.
Death
,
to
him
,
was
the
blackness
of
unbroken
sleep
;
and
yet
,
during
his
years
in
Jerusalem
,
he
was
ever
vexed
with
the
inescapable
fuss
and
fury
of
things
religious
.
Why
,
I
had
a
horse-boy
on
my
trip
into
Idumæa
,
a
wretched
creature
that
could
never
learn
to
saddle
and
who
yet
could
talk
,
and
most
learnedly
,
without
breath
,
from
nightfall
to
sunrise
,
on
the
hair-splitting
differences
in
the
teachings
of
all
the
rabbis
from
Shemaiah
to
Gamaliel
.
But
to
return
to
Miriam
.
"
You
believe
you
are
immortal
,
"
she
was
soon
challenging
me
.
"
Then
why
do
you
fear
to
talk
about
it
?
"
"
Why
burden
my
mind
with
thoughts
about
certainties
?
"
I
countered
.
"
But
are
you
certain
?
"
she
insisted
.
"
Tell
me
about
it
.
What
is
it
like
--
your
immortality
?
"
And
when
I
had
told
her
of
Niflheim
and
Muspell
,
of
the
birth
of
the
giant
Ymir
from
the
snowflakes
,
of
the
cow
Andhumbla
,
and
of
Fenrir
and
Loki
and
the
frozen
Jötuns
--
as
I
say
,
when
I
had
told
her
of
all
this
,
and
of
Thor
and
Odin
and
our
own
Valhalla
,
she
clapped
her
hands
and
cried
out
,
with
sparkling
eyes
:
"
Oh
,
you
barbarian
!
You
great
child
!
You
yellow
giant-thing
of
the
frost
!
You
believer
of
old
nurse
tales
and
stomach
satisfactions
!
But
the
spirit
of
you
,
that
which
can
not
die
,
where
will
it
go
when
your
body
is
dead
?
"
"
As
I
have
said
,
Valhalla
,
"
I
answered
.
"
And
my
body
shall
be
there
,
too
.
"
