"So am I," Laodice said wearily.
"Jerusalem?" the shepherd asked, glad he had brought out a response.
"No? Yet all Judea is going to Jerusalem at this time. Are you
fugitives?"
Momus nodded.
"Come then to Pella," the shepherd urged. "You will be fed there;
Titus will not come there. We are poor but we are happy--and we are
safe."
Laodice thanked him so inertly that he sensed her disinterest, and
while he sat looking at her, searching his heart for something kind to
say, she put out her hand impulsively and took his.
"God keep thee and forget thy heresy," she said. "If thou livest in
Pella, Pella is indeed happy."
He laughed with a flush stealing up under the brown of his cheeks. A
faint light came into Laodice's eyes as she looked at him; he returned
her gaze with a gradual softening that was intensely complimentary.
Between the two was effected instant and lasting fellowship. Before
Momus' indignant eyes the shepherd was blushing happily.
"Who art thou?" Laodice asked.
"They call me Joseph, son of Thomas."
After a silence she said softly, "I am not at liberty to tell my name." She remembered the secrecy of
Philadelphus' mission. "Yet perchance if the God of my fathers prosper
me and my husband, I may come to Pella--as thy queen."
The boy's eyes brightened and he drew in a sharp breath, but almost
instantly the animation died and he looked at her sorrowfully. It
seemed that she read dissent and sympathy commingled in his gaze. But
he was a Christian; he could not believe and hope as she hoped.
"Can I do aught for you?" he asked disjointedly.
"Our duty is rather toward you, child," she answered, suddenly
arousing to the peril they might bring their free-handed host. "We
have newly come from a country where there is pestilence."
But he smiled down on her uplifted face, with immense confidence.
"I am not afraid. Besides, if I perish giving you comfort, I have done
only as Jesus would have me do."
"Who is Jesus?" Laodice asked.
The shepherd made a little sign and bent his knee.
"The Christ!" he responded.
Momus plucked quickly at Laodice's sleeve and shook his head at her in
an admonitory manner. He had laid down his bread unfinished. But the
shepherd looked at him sympathetically.
"Never fear," he said. "It will not hurt her to hear about Him. He
makes Pella safe from armies. Let her come there and see for herself."
Laodice pressed his hand.
"I shall come," she said.
He heaved a contented sigh--contented with himself, contented with her
promise to come. Then he drew his hands away.
"The sheep are noisy; they will not let you sleep. We shall go." Then
as if afraid of her thanks he drew away, and halted at the threshold
of the shelter. Then the boy extended his hands with a gesture so
solemn that both of his guests bowed their heads instinctively.