"Where," she asked coldly, "is he who was with you at Emmaus?"
The pretender started a little, but the increase of alarm on his face
showed that he realized next that here was a peril in this woman which
he had overlooked.
"Gone," he said unreadily, "gone back to Ephesus."
She did not know what pain this announcement of that winsome
stranger's desertion would waken in her heart. Her eyes fell; her
brows lifted a little; the corners of her mouth became pathetic. The
pretender, casting a sidelong glance at her, saw to his own safety
that she had believed him.
"He was a parasite," he sighed, "living off my bounty. But even that
did not invite him when he neared the peril of this city. So he turned
back. I--I do not blame him," he added with a little laugh.
"Blame him?" she said quickly. "You--you do not blame him?"
"No! Any place, any condition is more desirable than residence in
Jerusalem at this hour."
"If one seeks but to be comfortable. But here is a place for work and
for achievement," she declared.
"Too desperate an extreme. Nothing can be done here," he observed,
shrugging his shoulders.
She gazed at him with immense contempt.
"That from a son of Judas Maccabaeus!" she exclaimed.
He looked disconcerted.
"Why not?" he urged. "It is neither rational nor practical to attempt
the impossible. Jerusalem is doomed. I would but add myself to the
sacrifice did I interfere between destruction and its sure prey."
After a silence in which she confronted him with many emotions showing
on her face, she said with infinite pity and disappointment: "O Philadelphus, you to throw greatness away!"
"Where, O my mysterious genius, are my army, my engines, my
subsistence, my advantage and the prize?"
"What was that dowry which was stolen from me to purchase for you but
these things? I brought it for this purpose. Another than myself
delivered it to you; the end is achieved; what use will you make of
it?"
"There is no nation here for that dowry to defend, no crown for it to
support. But for this same madness which possesses my lady, the
princess, I should depart this day for a safer venture, in some safer
country!"
She faced him intently.
"And you will do nothing for Judea?" she asked.
"What can be done?" he asked, throwing out his hands with a careless
gesture.
"Oh," she exclaimed with a rush of passionate feeling, "that I were
you! You, with the materials for empire-building at your feet! You,
with the hour beseeching you, with a people searching for you, with a
treasury filled for you, with ancient prophecy establishing you,
ancient precept teaching you, and the cause of God arming you!
Philadelphus, son of a great patriot, what are you saying! What can
there be done! Oh rather, how dare you not do! What have you about you
but the inevitable end of Judah, living contrary to God's plan for it!
It is the conscience of Israel rising against its sin and submission!
It is the blood of David rebelling against the heathen yoke! It is the
hour foretold by Isaiah and Jeremiah and Ezekiel and Daniel and the
Twelve, when Israel shall repent and be chastened and return to the
heritage of Jacob. Be the repairer of the breach! Be the restorer of
the paths to dwell in, my husband! Go out and let Israel behold you!
Help them to wipe out the shame of Babylonia and Persia and Macedonia
and Rome! Make Jerusalem not only a sanctuary but a capital! Restore
the glory of David and the peace of Solomon, for those were God's days
and Judah can not prosper except as it returns to them!
Philadelphus--"