less
observant eyes than hers that the newly arrived Philadelphus was not
delighted with the bride he had met.

The Greek summoned a servant.

"Go summon thy master, Prisca; and haste. I doubt not I have for him a
sweet relief."

The woman bowed.

"If it please thee, madam, the master is without in the vestibule,
returning from the city." Amaryllis signed to the ivory chair before
her.

"Sit, lady," she said to Laodice. "He will come at once."

The young woman dropped into the seat and gazed wistfully at her
hostess. Instinctively, she knew that in this woman was no relief from
the darkened life she was to lead with her husband. The Greek's face,
palely lighted by a thoughtful smile, vanished in sudden darkness.
Laodice saw instead an image of a strong intent face, brightening
under the sunrise, saw it relax, soften, grow inexpressibly kind, then
pass, as a tender memory taking leave for ever.

She was brought to herself by the Greek's rising suddenly. The
Ephesian appeared at the arch, tossing mantle and kerchief to the
porter as he entered. Laodice rose to her feet with difficulty. It was
he, indeed!

He was kissing Amaryllis' hand. The Greek was smiling an accusing,
conscious smile. She indicated Laodice. The Ephesian's face showed
startlement, suspicion and a quick recovery. He bowed low and waited
for explanation.

"Then I will go," Amaryllis said with amusement in her eyes, "if you
are acting pretenses for my sake."

[Illustration: Amaryllis the Greek.]

She turned toward the arch which led into the interior of the house.
The pretender glanced again at Laodice and again at the Greek.

"What is the play, lady?" he asked.

Amaryllis looked at Laodice standing stony white at her place, and
lost her confident smile.

"Is this not he?" she asked.

"Is this Philadelphus Maccabaeus?" Laodice asked.

The Ephesian's face changed quickly. Enlightenment mixed with
discomfiture appeared there for an instant.

"I am he," he said evenly.

"Then," Laodice said, "I am she whom thou hast expected."

Philadelphus smiled and dropped his head as if in thought.

"One always expects the pleasurable," he essayed, "but at times one
does not recognize it when it comes. Who art thou, lady?"

"Pestilence, war and the evil devices of men have desolated me," she
said coldly. "I have only a name. I am Laodice."

"Laodice!" he repeated amiably. "A familiar name; eh, Amaryllis?"

Laodice waited. Philadelphus looke