"Shade of Helen!" he exclaimed under his breath as the firelight gave him perfect view of the sleeping girl. "What have we here?"
Julian made no response. He drew nearer and looked in silence.
"Now what are they to each other?" Philadelphus continued. "Father and daughter; lady and servant or–a courtezan and her manager?"
At the continued silence of his companion, he argued his question himself.
"No such ill-fashioned peasant loins as his ever begat such sweet patrician perfection as that!" he declared. "And a lady rich enough to have one servant would travel with more than one or not at all–"
Julian broke in with sudden avid interest.
"Look at that deal of feminine flummery–that dress of silver tissue, the ends of that silken scarf you see below the covering–all those jewels and trinkets! Odd garb for travel afoot, is it not? It is a badge not to be put off even in as barren a market as this. She is going to Jerusalem for the Passover. He will carry the purse, however, mark me."
"How well you know the marks of delinquency!" Philadelphus said with a glimmer of resentment in his eyes.
"Who does not? What do the Jewish psalmists and proverbialists and purists depict so minutely as that migrating iniquity, the strange woman?"
"But look at her!" Philadelphus insisted. "I have not seen anything so bewitching since I left Ephesus!"