Even under the shelter of her veil he saw her flush.
The next instant she was out of the synagogue and gone.
The Maccabee hesitated restlessly, forgot his mission to the synagogue and then, with no definite purpose, followed.
At the edge of town, where the huddle of huts left off and the gravel and rock and cedar began, he saw the priest dismiss the pair with his blessing and turn back.
Undecided, restless and regretful, the Maccabee lingered, looking after her as she went into the hills, unattended, except for an anomalous old man.

The sun of noon shone on her silver dress that the dust of the wayside had not tarnished.

He was gloomy and wistful without understanding his discomfort, and afraid for the beautiful unknown going out for seven days into the unfriendly wilderness.
There was the click of a horse's hoof beside him.

He glanced up with a nervous start to see Julian of Ephesus, scowling, at hand.
"It is time," he said, "for us to be off." The Maccabee instantly determined that Julian of Ephesus should not come up with this defenseless girl again.
"I am not ready," he returned promptly.
"It was three days, this morning, that you have lost.

To-morrow it will be four." "And Sabbath, it will be seven.