His
gaze at Momus was frank with boyish curiosity. His bright eyes plainly
remarked on the oddity of the old servant's appearance. Having
catalogued old Momus as worthy of further inspection, he looked then
at Laodice. Under the lowering moon and the listless effort of coming
day, her unmantled dress of silver tissue made of her a moon-spirit,
banished out of her world of pallor and solitude. Before her splendid
young beauty, pale with distress and weariness, he was not abashed.
His simple eyes studied her with equal frankness, but with an
admiration beyond words.
Feeling somehow that his sudden appearance might have distressed her,
he said finally:
"Go on, lady, or stay as it pleases you. I will not hurt you."
Momus' shoulders submerged his ears in an indignant shrug. That this
young calf of the pastures should insure him safe passage!
But Laodice was still filled with the calamity of her loss.
"Hast seen a robber, here, along this road?" she asked.
"Many of them," was the prompt answer.
"With a chest of jewels?"
The boy shook his head.
"I never examined their booty," he said with perfect respect.
"Or then a woman riding one camel and leading another?"
"Never anything like that."
Laodice, with this hope gone, let her face fall into her hands.
"His fortune given freely to Israel," she groaned.
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