"Our interest in you as our guest has not abated. Philadelphus is ready to see you, at any time," she said, watching his face.
"And in time of war," he answered composedly, "we intend many things in the first place which we do not carry out in the second. I do not care to see–Philadelphus."
She lifted her brows. He answered the implied question.
"I was a familiar to this Philadelphus; he is young and boastful, talkative as a woman. If he means to be king, as those who knew him in Ephesus were given to believe, it is not unnatural that some of us, without fortune or tie to keep us home, should follow him–as parasites, if you will–to share in the largess which he will surely give his friends if he succeeds."
He did not face her when he made this speech, and he did not observe the amusement that crept into her eyes. He could not sense his own greatness of presence sufficiently to know that his claim to be a parasite upon so incapable a creature as the false Philadelphus would awaken doubt in the mind of an intelligent woman like Amaryllis.
He felt that he was not covering his tracks well, and put his ingenuity to a test.
"The boon-craver therefore should not sit like a dog, begging crumbs, till the table is laid. My hunger would appear as competition, if I showed it him, while he is yet unfed. Of a truth, I would not have him know I am here."
"I will keep thy secret," she promised, smiling.
"I thank you," he said gravely. "I came, on this occasion, to ask after the young woman, whose name I have not learned–her whom you have sheltered."
Amaryllis' smiling eyes darkened suddenly.