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 voice that was usually low and grave; “and be welcome.”

He came to the place she indicated at her side and sat.  In silence he waited until the tiring-woman had finished her service and departed.  Then it was Amaryllis who spoke.

“You left us abruptly on occasion of your first visit.”

“The siege was of greater interest to you than I was.  When I discovered the cause of the disturbance, you would have failed to remember me.”

“Yet I recall you readily after many days.”

“The city is in disorder; conventions can not always be observed in war-time.  I returned when I could.”

“Our interest in you as our guest has not abated.  Philadelphus is ready to see you, at any time,” she said, watching his face.

“And in time of war,” he answered composedly, “we intend many things in the first place which we do not carry out in the second.  I do not care to see—­Philadelphus.”

She lifted her brows.  He answered the implied question.

“I was a familiar to this Philadelphus; he is young and boastful, talkative as a woman.  If he means to be king, as those who knew him in Ephesus were given to believe, it is not unnatural that some of us, without fortune or tie to keep us home, should follow him—­as parasites, if you will—­to share in the largess which he will surely give his friends if he succeeds.”

He did not face her when he made this speech, and he did not observe the amusement that crept into her eyes.  He could not sense his own greatness of presence sufficiently to know that his claim to be a parasite upon so incapable a creature as the false Philadelphus would awaken doubt in the mind of an intelligent woman like Amaryllis.

He felt that he was not covering his tracks well, and put his ingenuity to a test.

“The boon-craver therefore should not sit like a dog, begging crumbs, till the table is laid.  My hunger would appear as competition, if I showed it him, while he is yet unfed.  Of a truth, I would not have him know I am here.”