And now here is parchment, give me the lamp that I may prepare the bond." "My word is my bond, Phoenician," answered the Levite haughtily.
Metem looked at him.

"Doubtless," he said, "but you are old, and this is--a rough country where accidents chance at times.

Still, the thing would read very ill, and, as you say, your word is your bond.

Only remember, Issachar, two hundred shekels, bearing interest at two shekels a month.

And now you are weary, holy Issachar, with plotting for the welfare of others, and so am I.Farewell, and good dreams to you." The Levite watched him go, muttering to himself, "Alas that I should have fallen to such traffic with a knave, but it is for your sake and for your soul's sake, O Aziel my son.