Shallum nodded assent. As a matter of fact he would never have expected more than seven. But if these Greeks were so free with their money why should not an honest Jew have the benefit of it?
“Of course you will come with us?” said Lycon.
“You may take my word for it, there will be nothing to offend you.”
Shallum hesitated for a moment, and then muttered an unwilling “Yes.”
“And you won’t mind wearing this little twig of ivy, just twisted round your head? It means nothing—every one does it.”
This was more than the wretched man was prepared for. “Not I,” he said; “I am not going to wear any of your idolatrous ornaments.”
Lycon put the money-bag into his pocket again. “Then, my dear Shallum, I am afraid we shall not be able to do any business. ‘Give and take’ is our motto. We put a nice little bargain in your way; and you must humour us. However, if you are obstinate, there must be an end of it. I dare say Zadok can find us what we want. Come, Callicles,” he went on, turning to his companion, “we must be going.”
Shallum saw his dreams of deliverance from his money-troubles vanishing into air, and grew desperate. “Stop,” he said to his guests, “let me think for a moment. You won’t ask me to do anything else. A few leaves can’t make much odds either way. I don’t remember ever hearing anything in the Law against wearing ivy. It isn’t like eating swine’s flesh, or those detestable scaleless eels that you Greeks are so fond of. Yes, I’ll wear the thing, if you want me to so much.”
“That’s right, Shallum; I thought a sensible man like you would not throw away a good chance for a mere nothing.”
So saying, Lycon stepped outside the shop, and whistled. In a minute or so a cart, which had been waiting round the corner, was driven up. The skins of wine were stowed away in it, and the two Greeks, with Shallum between them, all wearing the ivy-wreath, took their seats, and started for the Valley of the Cheesemongers, where it had been arranged that the festival should be held.