The City of Delight

"The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you for evermore.

Farewell," he said in a half-whisper.

He was gone.

Presently the rush of little feet swept after him and his high, wild,

youthful yell rang faintly in the distance. The delicate crackling

from the heated bed of coals was all that was heard in the sheltered

wady roofed with skins.

For the second time within the past few hours, Laodice had met a

Christian. Both had helped her; both had blessed her. And one was an

old man and one was a child.

The interest of the recent interview and the excitement of the night

slowly died away, leaving Laodice in the dead hopelessness of weary

despair. She lay down suddenly with her face against the warmed sand

and wept. Momus sat down beside her, covered her with a leopard skin

taken from his own swarthy shoulders, and soothed her with awkward

touches on cheek and hair, till her tears exhausted her and she slept.

Stealthily then the old man rolled up her own mantle and put it under

her head and prepared to watch. And then as he sat with his knee drawn

up, his head bowed upon it, the weakness of slumber gradually stole

away his watchfulness and his concern.

Some time later, before the deliberate dawn of a March day had put out

the last of the greater stars, two men on horses descended the

declivity just above the shelter of sheepskins and attracted by the

dull glow of the fire drew up cautiously.

At a word from one of the men, the other alighted and, peering from

the shelter of a prostrate cedar, inspected the pair. After assuring

himself that there were but two about the camp, one a woman and both

asleep, he tiptoed back to his fellow.

"Only a man and a woman," he said. "Jews on their way to the Passover.

Their fire is almost out. Let us ride on."

"What haste!" the one who had kept his saddle said. "One would think

it were you going forward to meet a bride and her dowry! I am hungry.

Let us borrow of this fire and get breakfast."

"Emmaus is only a little farther on," the first man protested. "I am

tired of wayside meals, Philadelphus. I would eat at a khan again

before I forget the custom."

"How is the pair favored?" the other said provokingly.

"I did not approach near enough," the other retorted. "It seemed to be

an old man and a girl."

"Pretty?" the one called Philadelphus asked.

"I did not see."

"Married, Julian?"

"How could I tell?" Julian flared.

Philadelphus laughed, and dismounted.

"I shall see for myself," he declared, walking over to the sheltering

cedar to look.

Julian followed him nervously, saying under his breath: "You waste time deliberately!"