"Art thou she whom I seek?" Laodice asked. "Amaryllis, the Seleucid?"
"I am called by that name."
"I was bidden," Laodice continued, "by one whom we both know, to seek
asylum with thee."
"So? Who may that be?"
Laodice whispered the name.
"Philadelphus Maccabaeus."
The Greek's eyes took on a puzzled look. Then she surveyed the girl
and as a full conception of the beauty of the young creature before
her formed in the Greek's mind, the perplexity left her expression.
Her air changed; a subtle smile played about her lips.
"He sent you to me for protection?"
"Until he arrives in Jerusalem," Laodice assented.
"But he is already here."
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.
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