"Not here, Benjamin, in our father's house, not here."
"Then in the house of Menelaos."
"Not there, I beg you; for Menelaos bears the name of High Priest. Let us at least respect the customs of Israel, if we no longer have its faith."
"Let it then be in the Princess' house. She has no such silly scruples," replied Glaucon petulantly. "It is the custom of the aristocracy of Greece to hire their entertainers; poets to recite, orators to declaim, pantomimists, dancers, players on instruments and singers. Helena will arrange it all, if I ask her."
"And if you pay for it?" suggested Deborah, as Glaucon hurried away to carry out his new conceit.
Deborah watched the curtain through which he had passed. Dark shadows were flung upon her face from darker thoughts within. She paced the floor as restively as a caged panther. The convulsive movement of her fingers was as if they were clutching and stifling some hideous insect which defiled them, and which she would fling away when she had killed it.
"How long is this to be?" she murmured. "But that by my abiding here Jerusalem will be the sooner rid of all this abomination, I would go to the camp—or to the desert. But here I can best serve Judas. Patience! Patience! But this impostor, this Princess, forsooth! She must be unmasked."