“Seest thou how much I believe in this youth?” he asked.

A shade of uneasiness crossed Philip’s forehead.

“Thou art no longer young, Costobarus,” he said, “and disappointments go hard with us, at our age—­especially, especially.”

“I shall not be disappointed,” Costobarus declared.

The friendly Jew looked doubtful.

“The nation is in a sad state,” he observed.  “We have cause.  The procurators have been of a nature with their patrons, the emperors.  It is enough but to say that!  But Vespasian Caesar is another kind of man.  He is tractable.  Young Titus, who will succeed him, is well-named the Darling of Mankind.  We could get much redress from these if we would be content with redress.  But no!  We must revert to the days of Saul!”

“Yes; but they declare they will have no king but God; no commander but the Messiah to come; no order but primitive impulse!  But the Maccabee will change all that!  It is but the far swing of the first revolt.  Jerusalem is ready for reason at this hour, it is said.”

“Yes,” Philip assented with a little more spirit.  “It hath reached us, who have dealings with the East, that there is a better feeling in the city.  Such slaughter has been done there among the Sadducees, such hordes of rebels from outlying subjugated towns have poured their license and violence in upon the safe City of Delight, that the citizens of Jerusalem actually look forward to the coming of Titus as a deliverance from the afflictions which their own people have visited upon them.”

“The hour for the Maccabee, indeed,” Costobarus ruminated.

“And the hour for Him whom we all expect,” Philip added in a low tone.  Costobarus bowed his head.  Presently he drew a scroll from the folds of his ample robe.

“Hear what Philadelphus writes me: 

  Caesarea, II Kal.  Jul.  XX.

  To Costobarus, greetings and these by messenger;

  I learn on arriving in this city that Judea is in truth no man’s
  country.  Wherefore it can be mine by cession or conquest.  It is
  mine, however, by right.  I shall possess it.

  I go hence to Jerusalem.

  Fail not to send my wife thither and her dowry.  Aquila, my
  emissary, will safely conduct her.  Trust him.

  Proceed with despatch and husband the dowry of your daughter,
  since it is to be the corner-stone of a new Israel.

  Peace to you and yours.  To my wife my affection and my loyalty.

  Philadelphus Maccabaeus.

  Nota Bene.  Julian of Ephesus accompanies me.  He is my cousin.  He
  will in all probability meet your daughter at the Gate.

  Maccabaeus.”

Slowly the old man rolled the writing.

“He wastes no words,” Philip mused.  “He writes as a siege-engine talks—­without quarter.”

Costobarus nodded.

“So I am giving him two hundred talents,” he said deliberately.