As if in response to his inner hope that she would see him, she raised

her eyes at the moment she passed, and started quickly. Even under the

shelter of her veil he saw her flush.

The next instant she was out of the synagogue and gone.

The Maccabee hesitated restlessly, forgot his mission to the synagogue

and then, with no definite purpose, followed.

At the edge of town, where the huddle of huts left off and the gravel

and rock and cedar began, he saw the priest dismiss the pair with his

blessing and turn back.

Undecided, restless and regretful, the Maccabee lingered, looking

after her as she went into the hills, unattended, except for an

anomalous old man. The sun of noon shone on her silver dress that the

dust of the wayside had not tarnished. He was gloomy and wistful

without understanding his discomfort, and afraid for the beautiful

unknown going out for seven days into the unfriendly wilderness.

There was the click of a horse's hoof beside him. He glanced up with a

nervous start to see Julian of Ephesus, scowling, at hand.

"It is time," he said, "for us to be off."

The Maccabee instantly determined that Julian of Ephesus should not

come up with this defenseless girl again.

"I am not ready," he returned promptly.

"It was three days, this morning, that you have lost. To-morrow it

will be four."

"And Sabbath, it will be seven. A long time, a long time!"

The Maccabee turned and went back to the khan. A gap in the hills had

hidden the girl in the silver tissue, and the blitheness of the

Maccabee's spirit had gone with her.




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