o surmise for myself why you came to
Jerusalem. You seem to have known this girl before. I shall not ask
you; in return for that promise that I may conclude what I will."

"If you are too discerning, lady," he answered, while his eyes sought
down the corridor for a glimpse of the one he had come to see, "you
are dangerous."

"And what then?"

"I must devise a way to silence you."

She lifted her brows. In that very speech was the portrait of the
Maccabee that she had come to love through letters.

"There is something familiar in your mood," she said thoughtfully. "It
seems that I have known you--for many years."

He made no answer. He had said all that he wished to say to this
woman. She noted his silence and rose.

"I shall send the girl to you."

"Thou art good," he answered and she withdrew.

A moment later Laodice came into the chamber. She was not startled. In
her innocent soul she did not realize that this was a sign of the
depth of her love for him. He rose and met her half-way across the
hall; took her hand and held it while they walked back to the exedra,
and gazed at her face for evidence that her sojourn in this house had
been unhappy or otherwise; noted that she had let down her hair and
braided it; observed every infinitesimal change that can attract only
the lover's eye.

"Sit," he said, giving her a place beside him. "I came of habit to see
you. Of habit, I was interrupted. Is there no way that I can talk to
you without the resentment of some one who flourishes a better right
to be with you than I can show?"

"Where hast thou been," Laodice asked, "so long?"

"Was it long," he demanded impulsively, "to you?"

"New places, new faces, uncertainty and other things make time seem
long," she explained hastily.

"Nay, then," he said, "I have been busy. I have been attending to that
labor I had in mind for Judea, of which we spoke in the hills that
morning."

Laodice drew in a quick breath. Then some one, if not herself or the
husband who had denied her, was at work for Judea.

"There is no nation, here, for a king," he went on. "It is a great
horde that needs organization. It wants a leader. I am ambitious and
Judea will be the prize to the ablest man. Seest thou mine intent?"

"You--you aspire--" she began and halted, suddenly impressed with the
complication his announcement had effected.

"Go on," he said.

"You would take Judea?"

"I would."

"But it belongs of descent to the Mac