It was the moment that Laodice had avoided fearfully ever since she had gathered from that winsome stranger by the roadside that his companion was her husband.  Although, after that fact had been made known to her, she had felt that she ought to join Philadelphus and proceed with him to the Holy City, she had endured the exposure of the hills, the want and discomfort of insufficient supplies and the affronts of wayfarers, that she might spare herself as long as possible her union with the unsafe man who had become even more hateful by comparison with the one who had called himself Hesper.

“Perchance thou wilt lead me to him,” Laodice said finally.

Amaryllis made no immediate answer.  It would have been a natural impulse for her to wish to inquire for the girl’s business with the man that the Greek as hostess was expected to conceal.  But Amaryllis had her own explanation for this visit.  It had been plain to 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.