“Crucified!” she whispered.

“They say,” he went on, “that He pronounced judgment on Jerusalem and that it now cometh to pass!”

The accumulated effect of the calamitous recital was to stun her.  She gazed at him with unintelligent eyes, and her lips moved without speaking.  For one reared in constant contemplation of God’s nearness to His children, acquainted with divine politics, divine literature and divine law, cut off from the world and devoted wholly to religion, the story of a divine tragedy carried with it the full force of its fearful import.  Philadelphus’ narrative meant to her the crumbling of earth and the effacement of Heaven.  She cried wildly her unbelief when words returned to her.  But under the fury of her denunciation, unconsciously directed against the conviction that the story was true, she felt her hope of a restored Kingdom of David wavering toward a fall.

While she stood thus, Amaryllis, languid and pre-occupied, entered the room with John of Gischala at her side.  The Greek noted Philadelphus with a quick accession of interest.  John’s attention had been instantly arrested by the presence of the other man.  Philadelphus turned with fine ease to meet the man whom he must regard as his enemy and Laodice shrank back in an attempt to get out of sight of the trio.

“Welcome!” said Amaryllis to Philadelphus.  “A fortunate visit that makes possible an amnesty for two of my friends at once.  This, John, is Philadelphus of Ephesus, a seeker of diversion out of mine own country come to see the end of this great struggle thou wagest against Rome.  And thou, Philadelphus, seest before thee, John of Gischala, the arbiter of Judea’s future.  Be friends.”

With a comprehensive sweeping glance John inspected the man before him.

“John of Gischala,” he repeated in his feline voice, “the oppressor John.  Art thou not afraid of me, sir?”

“Dost thou meditate harm for me, sir?” Philadelphus smiled.

“Art thou, in that case, against me, sir?” John parried.

“On that hingeth his answer,” Amaryllis said, glancing at Laodice.  “And here is this same pretty stranger who bewitched thee yesterday.  Know her as Laodice.  Let that be parentage, history, ambition and religion for her.  She, too, seeks diversion in Jerusalem, and is my guest for a while.”

The Gischalan took Laodice’s hand and held it.

“Welcome, thou,” he said.  “I will tolerate another man under thy roof if thou wilt but make this pretty bird of passage a permanency,” he said to the Greek, after a silent study of Laodice’s beauty.

“Let her be a hostage dependent on thy good behavior.  Lapse, and I shall send her back to Olympus where they keep such nymphs.”

Philadelphus smiled at Laodice, but the shock of their recent talk had shaken her too much to enter into this idle chaff on the lips of those upon whom the fortunes of Israel depended at that very hour.