“What is the stake?” he asked after he had composed himself.

She hesitated, regretting that her defense of Momus had led her to hint her mission and touch upon her husband’s ambition.

“The welfare of hosts!” she replied finally.

“Heavens!  What a menace I was!” the Maccabee smiled.

She colored quickly and he resented the veil that was shutting away so much that was fine and fleeting by way of expression under its folds.

“But you are just as dangerous,” he declared.  “Now, we should be in Jerusalem this hour.  Our welfare and the welfare of others depend upon us—­I mean my companion and me.  But there is no devoted prodigy to bear me away—­thank fortune!  I have come out of a great turmoil; I must plunge into a greater one before many days.  Let me rest between them.  It will be a long time before I shall possess anything so sweet as the smell of this cedar fire and the picture of you against this fair sky!”

She looked down quickly.

“Was Ephesus in turmoil?” she asked disconnectedly.

“Ephesus was never in any other state!  A fit preparation for the disorder in Jerusalem!  I was met at Caesarea with such tales as depressed me until it required such delight as you are to bring back my spirits again!  What takes you to Jerusalem?” he asked earnestly.  “The Passover?  God will forgive you if you neglect it one year.  Nothing but the sternest necessity should send any one there at this hour.”

“My necessity is stern—­it is Judea’s necessity,” she answered.

“More similarity!” he exclaimed.  “That is why I go!  Certainly Judea’s fortunes have bettered with you and me both hastening to her rescue.  Come, let us compare further.  I am going to crown a king over Judea!”

She raised her veil to look at him with startled eyes.  The glimpse of her face, for ever a delight and an astonishment to him because of its extraordinary loveliness, swept him out of the half-serious air into which he had fallen.  He stopped and looked at her with pleased, boyish, happy eyes.

“Aurora!” he said softly.  “I see now why day comes gradually.  Mankind would die of excitement if the dawn were unveiled to them like this suddenly every morning!”

She released the veil hurriedly, but before it fell he put out a hand, caught it and tossed it back over her head.

“Be consistent with your part,” he said, still smiling.  “No man ever saw day cancel her dawn and live.”

It was pleasant, this sweet possession and command.  How much like an overgrown boy he had become, since she had wakened to find herself in his power that morning in the hills!  The harshness and inflexibility had left his atmosphere entirely.  She was only afraid of him now because he had refused to be dismissed.  But she drew down the veil.

“I, too, expect a king,” she said in a lowered tone.  “A conqueror and a redeemer.”