it the alkanet she had used on
her cheeks. Her dress was olive, and, contrary to custom, her head
uncovered.

"You are not strong, perhaps?"

As Judas spoke, he thought of the episode in the synagogue, and wished her
again unconscious in his arms.

"I have been so weak," she murmured. And after a moment she added: "I am
tired; let me sit awhile."

The carpet of flowers and of green invited, and presently Judas dropped at
her side. About his waist a linen girdle had been wound many times; from
it a bag of lynx-skin hung. The white garments, the ample turban that he
wore, were those of ordinary life, but in his bearing was just that
evanescent charm which now and then the Oriental possesses--the subtlety
that subjugates and does not last.

"But you must be strong; we need your strength."

Mary turned to him wonderingly.

"Yes," he repeated, "we need your strength. Johanna has joined us, as you
know. Susannah too. They do what they can; but we need others--we need
you."

"Do you mean----"

Something had tapped at her heart, something which was both joy and dread,
and she hesitated, fearing that the possibility which Judas suggested was
unreal, that she had not heard his words aright.

"Do you mean that he would let me?"

"He would love you for it. But then he loves everyone, yet best, I think,
his enemies."

"They need it most," Mary answered; but her thoughts had wandered.

"And I," Judas added--"I loved you long ago."

Then he too hesitated, as though uncertain what next to say, and glanced
at her covertly. She was looking across the lake, over the country of the
Gadarenes, beyond even that, perhaps, into some infinite veiled to him.

"I remember," he continued, tentatively, "it was there at Tiberias I saw
you first. You were entering the palace. I waited. The sentries ordered me
off; one threw a stone. I went to where the garden is; I thought you might
be among the flowers. The wall was so high I could not see. The guards
drove me away. I ran up the hill through the white and red terraces of the
grape. From there I could see the gardens, the elephants with their ears
painted, and the oxen with the twisted horns. The wind sung about me like
a flute; the sky was a tent of different hues. Something within me had
sprung into life. It was love, I knew. It had come before, yes, often, but
never as then. For," he added, and the gleam of his eyes was as a fanfare
to the thought he was about to express, "love