"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."