The City of Delight

For one expecting to find Jerusalem animated and beholding it still

and lifeless, how quickly its white walls, its white houses and its

sparkling Temple became haunted, dead crypts and sepulchers.

But presently there came across the considerable distance that lay

between him and Jerusalem, a sound remarkably distinct because of the

utter stillness that prevailed. It was the jingle of harness and the

ring of hoof-beats upon stones embedded in the gray earth.

A Roman in armor polished like gold, with a floating mantle

significantly bordered in purple, rode slowly into the open space,

drew up his horse and stopped. The Maccabee looked at him sharply,

then quitted his shelter and walked down toward the rider. At sight of

him, the horseman clapped his hand to his short sword, but the

Maccabee put up his empty hands and smiled at the man of all superior

advantage. Then the light of recognition broke over the Roman's face.

"You!" he cried.

"I, Cæsar," the Maccabee responded. For a moment there was silence in

which the Jew watched the flickering of amazement and perplexity on

Titus' face.

"What do you here, away from Ephesus, and worse, attempting to run my

lines?" he demanded finally.

The Maccabee signed toward the walls.

"My wife is there," he said briefly.

The Roman made an exclamation which showed the sudden change to

enlightenment.

"Solicitous after these many years?" he demanded.

"She has two hundred talents," the Maccabee replied.

Titus smiled and shook his head.

"I ought to keep her there. Rome must get treasure enough out of that

rebellious city to repay her for her pains in subjugating it."

"Pay yourself out of another pocket than mine. It will take two

hundred talents to repay me for all that I have suffered to get it. I

want the countersign, Titus. You owe me it."

"Will you come out of there, at once?" the Roman demanded. "Not that I

suspect you will make the city harder to take, but I should dislike to

make war on an old comrade in my Ephesian revels."

The Maccabee looked doubtful.

"I can not promise," he said. "At least do not hold off the siege

until you see me again without the walls. It might lose you prestige

in Rome."

Titus swung his bridle while he gazed at the Maccabee.

"I wish Nicanor were here," he said finally. "He might be able to see

harm in you; but I never could. You will have to promise me

something--anything so it is a promise--before I can let you in.

Something to appease Nicanor, else I shall never hear the last of

this."

The Maccabee laughed, the sudden harsh laugh of one impelled to

amusement unexpectedly.

"Assure Nicanor, for me, that I shall come out of Jerusalem one day.

Dead or alive, I shall do it! You need not add that I did not specify

the date of my exodus. What is the word?"