"But I am neither Greek nor Roman."
"I have a garden of roses, and in the midst of it is a tree, and its bloom is the richest of all. Whence came it, think you?"
"From Persia, the home of the rose."
"Ah! one of the isles of Greece."
"I will tell you," she said: "a traveller found it perishing by the roadside on the plain of Rephaim."
"I put it in the earth left bare by the receding Nile, and the soft south wind blew over the desert and nursed it, and the sun kissed it in pity; after which it could not else than grow and flourish. I stand in its shade now, and it thanks me with much perfume. As with the roses, so with the men of Israel. Where shall they reach perfection but in Egypt?"
"Moses was but one of millions."
"Nay, there was a reader of dreams. Will you forget him?"