own eyes, as the
paganism you fall into when you speak of it!"

He laughed.

"But it is not that I am lovely which made you a lover--until now,"
she went on. "I have seen men faithful to women unlovely as Hecate. It
is not that. And I am still as I was, but--"

He looked down on the triple bands of the ampyx that bound her
gold-powdered hair and said:

"It is you who have grown weary; not I."

She astutely drew back from the ground upon which she had entered. It
lay in the power of this Gischalan to refuse further protection to her
out of sheer spite if she made her disaffection too patent.

"O leader of hosts, canst thou be mummer, languishing poet, pettish
woman and spoiled princeling all in one? No! And I shall love the
clanking of arms and thy mailed footsteps all the more if thou
permittest me to look upon irresponsible folly while thou art absent."

"Have thy way. I have mine. Furthermore, I wish to thank thee for the
companion thou sentest me at breakfast. He who dines alone with her,
hath his table full. Farewell."

Chapter XV

THE IMAGE OF JEALOUSY

The Maccabee resolved that in spite of his heart-hunger, he must not
be a frequent visitor to the house of Amaryllis because of the
imminent risk of confronting the impostor Julian and the danger of
exposure. Not danger to his life, but danger to his freedom to court
the beautiful girl, which an unmasking might accomplish. Besides, he
had made an extraordinary entry into the Greek's house in the
beginning, and he was not prepared to explain himself even now, if he
returned.

But his longing to look at her again was stronger than his caution.
Much had happened since he had left the house of the Greek on the
evening of his first day in Jerusalem, and he feared that his
absorption in his own plans might result in the loss of her soon or
late. So when the evening of the second week to a day of his sojourn
in the city came round, unable to endure longer, he turned his steps
with considerable apprehension toward the house of Amaryllis.

When he was led across the threshold of the Greek's hall, he saw
Amaryllis sitting in her exedra, her slim white arms crossed back of
her head, her tiring-woman, summoned for a casual attention, busy with
a parted ribbon on the sandal of the lady's foot.

The Maccabee awaited her invitation. Her eyes flashed a sudden
pleasure when she looked up and saw him.

"Enter," she said, with an unwonted lightness in her vo