The City of Delight

Laodice raised her head.

"You reason well," she said. "It never occurred to me how wickedness

could justify itself by reason. But I observe now how serviceable a

thing it is. It seems that you can reason away any truth, any fact,

any ideal. Perhaps you can banish God by reason, or defend crime by

reason; reason, I shall not be surprised to learn, can make all things

possible or impossible. But--does reason hush that strange speaking

voice in you, which we Jews call conscience? Tell me; have you

reasoned till it ceases to rebuke you?"

"Ah, how hard you are to accommodate," Amaryllis smiled. "I mean to

show you how you can abide here. I can ask no more of John.

Philadelphus alone is master of your fate. I have not sought to change

you before I sought to change Philadelphus. He will not change so long

as you are beautiful. This is life, my dear. You may as well prepare

for it now."

Laodice gazed with wide, terrorized eyes at the Greek. She saw force

gathering against her. Amaryllis shaped her device to its end.

"And if you do not accept this shelter," she concluded, "what else is

there for you?"

Hesper, many times her refuge, rose before the hard-pressed girl.

"There is another in Jerusalem who will help me," she declared.

"And that one?" Amaryllis asked coolly.

"Is he who calls himself Hesper, the Ephesian," Laodice answered.

"Why should you trust him?" the Greek asked pointedly.

"He--when Philadelphus--you remember that Philadelphus told you what

happened--"

"That he tossed a coin with a wayfarer in the hills for you?" the

Greek asked.

Laodice dropped her head painfully.

"This Hesper let me go then, and afterward--"

"He has repented of that by this time. It is not safe to try him a

second time. Besides, if you must risk yourself to the protection of

men, why turn from him whom you call your husband for this stranger?"

The question was deft and telling. Laodice started with the suddenness

of the accusation embodied in it. And while she stood, wrestling with

the intolerable alternative, the Greek smiled at her and went her way.

Laodice stood where Amaryllis had left her, at times motionless with

helplessness, at others struck with panic. On no occasion did

homelessness in the war-ridden city of Jerusalem appear half so

terrible as shelter under the roof of that hateful house.

The little golden-haired girl from the chamber of artists beyond

skipped by her.

"Hast seen Demetrius?" she called back as she passed. "Demetrius, the

athlete, stupid!"

Laodice turned away from her.

"Nay, then," the girl declared; "if I have insulted you let me heal

over the wound with the best jest, yet! John hath written a sonnet on

Philadelphus' wife and our Lady Amaryllis is truing his meter for him.

Ha! Gods! What a place this is for a child to be brought up! I would

not give a denarius for my morals when I am grown. There's Demetrius!

Now for a laugh!"