The City of Delight

"We did not walk all night. We camped a little farther on, and moved

at daybreak this morning," she explained.

He cast a reflective look at the sun and considered how much time

Julian of Ephesus had lost for him upon the road, or else how long he

had slept, that this pair, who had camped all night and had journeyed

afoot by day, had caught up with him.

"Still it was a cruel journey--for those little feet," he said.

She glanced involuntarily at her sandals, worn and dusty.

"Yes," he said compassionately, following her eyes. "But let me see no

more, else I meet this good and burdened Momus with the flat of my

hand when he comes! What is he to you?"

"My servant--now almost my father!" she insisted, trying to cover the

tacit accusation that she had made in admitting by a glance that she

was weary. "He orders all things for my good. Do you think that each

of the stones over which I stumbled to-day did not hurt him worse

because they hurt me? Do you think he would have me go on, unless the

stake were worth the pain I had to endure? Say no more against him!"

The Maccabee shrugged his shoulders; then noting that she still stood,

he smoothed down a spot of the sand with his foot, tossed upon it one

of the sheepskins that Momus had unrolled, and extending his hand

politely pressed her down on the place he had made. Then he dropped

down beside her, lounging on his elbow.

"What is the stake?" he asked after he had composed himself.

She hesitated, regretting that her defense of Momus had led her to

hint her mission and touch upon her husband's ambition.

"The welfare of hosts!" she replied finally.

"Heavens! What a menace I was!" the Maccabee smiled.

She colored quickly and he resented the veil that was shutting away so

much that was fine and fleeting by way of expression under its folds.

"But you are just as dangerous," he declared. "Now, we should be in

Jerusalem this hour. Our welfare and the welfare of others depend upon

us--I mean my companion and me. But there is no devoted prodigy to

bear me away--thank fortune! I have come out of a great turmoil; I

must plunge into a greater one before many days. Let me rest between

them. It will be a long time before I shall possess anything so sweet

as the smell of this cedar fire and the picture of you against this

fair sky!"

She looked down quickly.

"Was Ephesus in turmoil?" she asked disconnectedly.

"Ephesus was never in any other state! A fit preparation for the

disorder in Jerusalem! I was met at Cæsarea with such tales as

depressed me until it required such delight as you are to bring back

my spirits again! What takes you to Jerusalem?" he asked earnestly.

"The Passover? God will forgive you if you neglect it one year.

Nothing but the sternest necessity should send any one there at this

hour."