But there was an even-tempered cynicism and sophistication in the half-droop of his level lids, indifference, hauteur and self-reliance in the uplift of his chin.

His soul was therefore older, more seasoned and set than the frame that housed it.
Now there was considerable agitation in his manner, enough to make him sharp in his speech to the villager.
"Is there a khan in Emmaus ?" he demanded.
"There is," the villager responded calmly.
"Where ?" The citizen motioned toward a low-roofed rambling structure of stone picked up on the native hills.
"Ask there," he said and passing out of his door went his way.
Julian touched his horse and rode through the worn passage and into the court of the decrepit khan of Emmaus.

The Maccabee followed.
The Syrian host who was both waiter and hostler met Julian entering first.
"Quick!" Julian said, leaning from his horse.

"Is there a young man here with gray temples?
A pagan ?" The Syrian, attracted by the anxiety in the demand, followed a train of surmise before his answer.
"No pagans, here.

Naught but Jews," he observed finally.
"Or a young woman of wealth?
Quick!" "No wealth at all; but plenty of women.