"This letter came to me but three hours since," replied Cynthia. "Let me read:
"'The armies from the capital, joined by many phalanges recalled from service beyond the Lebanons, are with me. We shall rendezvous on the plain of Sharon, and thence advance westward to the hills where the outlaw Judas has his camp. Have no fears, my love, I am not an Apollonius. We shall this time avoid all ravines, and march only in the open. The number of soldiers with me needs neither secrecy nor haste. The peltastai and cavalry alone could quickly destroy all armed bands of Jews. We shall consume the land, walled cities, open villages, and scattered houses, as an army of grasshoppers consumes the harvests. Not a partridge shall escape our pots, nor a Jew's head our spear-points. Greet Glaucon with this bit of news—his friend Dion is with us, having alone of all his company escaped the massacre at the Wady. The day after the full moon we begin the ascent of the hill country. Keep thy dear heart in patience until the war god rests his head in the lap of love, for I shall be a day with you in Jerusalem before we press to the East and South.'"
"The moon will be full three nights hence, will it not?" asked Berenice nonchalantly.
"Nay, in two," said Lydia, consulting her tablet. "It is one of the duties of the High Priest's wife to wait upon the Night Queen, as does the Priestess of Tanit. The second night the moon goddess will be in full array. I must haste to tell the news of Seron's coming to my Menelaos, that we may have a religious celebration of the triumph."
"Then must I say farewell so soon to my new friends?" said Berenice, rising. "Make my salutation to your good husbands, our friend Menelaos and General Seron. And to what princely gallant will the fair Helena convey my greeting?"
"I must keep your greeting all for myself, my dear Berenice, until time has allayed my grief for Apollonius' death," replied the Princess. "Unless you bid me send it on your own account to Captain Dion," she added. "Ah, blushes tell tales the lips do not care to utter."
She kissed both the cheeks of Berenice, but did not note that her breath blanched the blushes which Dion's name had started, as frost kills roses.
An hour later Deborah stood beneath the jewelled lantern in her chamber, for it was now dark. In her large mirror she saw reflected a figure far different from that which on the roof had excited the envy of the vainest of her sex. Her cap of coins, her necklace and ear-rings, silken robes and bejewelled sandals, were tossed together in a heap on the floor.
"You can arrange them, Huldah, when I am gone; and lay them back in the chests."
The old nurse was too much blinded by her tears, and her hands were too trembling with excitement to have performed that duty then. She sat on the floor rocking herself, her hands covering her face.