"I pray thy pardon," he said, with a sincerity beyond the formality of his words. "I am an intruder. But—the Essenes do not keep their beds long."
"Neither do all Alexandrians," she said, recovering herself. "Thou art welcome, for I would speak with thee."
She put up one of the mattings by a pull at a cord, and sat down on a taboret. She laid the silk across her lap and folded her hands upon it.
"I pray thee, be seated. I have not said all that I would say concerning last night. Art thou well—unhurt?"
The morning lay faintly on her face and he saw that she was paler and sadder of eye than was natural for one so young and so round of cheek. He was touched, and his answer was a tender surprise to him.
"Thou seest me," he said, making a motion with his hands, "but thou—I would there were less of last night in thy face!"
"I am well," she said, as her eyes fell. "For that I give thee thanks, and for the security of my fame among my friends—and—the sacrifice thou madest to preserve it!"
She meant his evasions that had kept the true story of her rescue secret. He was glad she touched so readily upon the subject. It gave him opportunity to relieve his soul of part of its burden.
"I was glad," he assured her. "Now, that thou art still safe, I pray thee, lady, preserve thyself. None in all the world is so able to understand thy peril as I!"
She looked at him, remembering that Agrippa had told them that he had been accused of apostasy.