"Thy servants are returned. Peace and farewell."
"Nay, but it is the noon. Wilt thou not tarry and rest?"
"I go," Marsyas said resolutely, "to save a life."
"Ah, then I did wrong to delay thee! I remember that Essenes are physicians."
"We can not cure the wicked of their evil intent, so I haste to save one threatened with another's malice. My friend is in peril. I must go unto Nazareth and return unto Jerusalem, before I can save him. And even now I may be too late!"
The magistrate searched the young man's face and then the half-incredulous curiosity passed out of his manner.
"Pardon mine idle wasting of thy precious minutes," he said soberly. "Go, and the Lord speed thee!"
Marsyas bowed low, and keeping his eyes fixed on the gray earth, lest they stray in search of the flower face, he turned again toward Nazareth. He heard a very soft, very hurried and almost imperious whisper, as he moved away, but he knew that it was not for him to hear, and he did not tarry. But a word from the magistrate brought him up.
"Stay! It is not customary for any outside of thine order to offer an Essene assistance, since we would spare thee the pain of refusal. But--it hath been suggested that thy haste may permit thee to waive thy scruples and accept help from me--as it hath been suggested--I filched precious time from thee. Thou canst ride with us, if thou wilt, and take my daughter's camel. She will come with me."
The brilliant eyes no longer obeyed the restraint which would keep them from the flower face. He turned to the girl, shyly withdrawn under the shade of the fringed tent, and knew by the lowered eyes and the warmer flush mantling the cheek that it was she that had made these suggestions.
Twenty reasons why he should accept the magistrate's offer arose to combat the single stern admonition of Custom. He was not yet under the Essenic vow to accept hospitality from none but Essenes, though he had lived in its observance all his life; he could not reach Nazareth under a day's journey and these swift beasts could carry him into the village by midnight. And Stephen's life depended on it.
"We depart even now," the magistrate added, "and I promise thee no further delay."
Ancient usage accused the young man on account of the woman, but by this time she had arisen and passed out of his sight, as if in good faith that he should not be troubled by her presence.