There she confronted the Maccabee with hands extended to ward off the encroachment of his cousin.

Without an instant's hesitation she flew into the Maccabee's arms.

His clasp closed around her and she shrank against him, clinging to the folds of his tunic over his breast with hands that were tremulous.
Her flight to him for refuge achieved an instant change in the Maccabee.

The fear of defeat, the primal hate of a rival, died in him.
All that remained was big wrath at the presumption and effrontery of Julian of Ephesus.

He had no definite memory of what followed, because of the rush of blood in his veins, the whirl of pleasurable sensation in his brain and the weight of a sweet frightened figure pressed to him.