The Maccabee resolved that in spite of his heart-hunger, he must not be a frequent visitor to the house of Amaryllis because of the imminent risk of confronting the impostor Julian and the danger of exposure. Not danger to his life, but danger to his freedom to court the beautiful girl, which an unmasking might accomplish. Besides, he had made an extraordinary entry into the Greek's house in the beginning, and he was not prepared to explain himself even now, if he returned.
But his longing to look at her again was stronger than his caution. Much had happened since he had left the house of the Greek on the evening of his first day in Jerusalem, and he feared that his absorption in his own plans might result in the loss of her soon or late. So when the evening of the second week to a day of his sojourn in the city came round, unable to endure longer, he turned his steps with considerable apprehension toward the house of Amaryllis.
When he was led across the threshold of the Greek's hall, he saw Amaryllis sitting in her exedra, her slim white arms crossed back of her head, her tiring-woman, summoned for a casual attention, busy with a parted ribbon on the sandal of the lady's foot.
The Maccabee awaited her invitation. Her eyes flashed a sudden pleasure when she looked up and saw him.
"Enter," she said, with an unwonted lightness in her voice that was usually low and grave; "and be welcome."
He came to the place she indicated at her side and sat. In silence he waited until the tiring-woman had finished her service and departed. Then it was Amaryllis who spoke.
"You left us abruptly on occasion of your first visit."
"The siege was of greater interest to you than I was. When I discovered the cause of the disturbance, you would have failed to remember me."
"Yet I recall you readily after many days."
"The city is in disorder; conventions can not always be observed in war-time. I returned when I could."