Scarcely had the pilgrims disappeared over the hill-tops when two men were observed climbing up through the ravine. They rode upon mules. One was old; the other a stalwart youth. Eliezar, the Damascene steward of Marduk's camp, recognized the elder one as he drew near, and ran out to meet him. "Why, it is Ben Yusef of Giscala! And this is the fine lad whom I last saw the height of a kid! The air of Galilee grows big men, as it grows big hills." "But what brings Eliezar here?" asked Ben Yusef. "Was not the northern country of Syria large enough for the sale of your merchandise?" In a few words Eliezar narrated how that, from being a private peddler of such goods as a meagre purse could buy, he had come to be the viceroy, satrap, tirshatha, prime-minister, or whatever term of speech might suit the office, of no less notable a merchant than Marduk, famed in many lands for his great enterprise--"Marduk of Tyre." "Of Tyre!" exclaimed Ben Yusef. "Then Elnathan and I would speak with him." Marduk had eyed the new-comers with that keenness which a merchant acquires in recognizing the sort of men it will pay to deal with, and had turned away to give orders for the reloading of his beasts, but approached the strangers on hearing Ben Yusef's remark. "I am Marduk of Tyre, and your servant," said he, bowing with indifferent courtesy. "My lad has acquaintance there, of which he would inquire," replied the old man. Elnathan walked a little way with Marduk; and, as they turned, the latter was heard to say: "I can give no information, for my route has been from Egypt across the desert of Arabia. Nor can I offer you encouragement, since it may be some moons yet before I again visit the coast. But if your Galilean flocks are well fleeced we may some day strike a bargain for their wool." Ben Yusef and his son, with suitable apologies for their intrusion upon the great merchant's privacy, and with familiar parting from Eliezar, went their way towards Jerusalem. Marduk's party followed. CHAPTER XXI. The last glow had faded from the western sky as Marduk looked towards it over the shoulder of Olivet. But there burst upon the view of the Phoenician a scene of weird magnificence. The stars above seemed to reflect themselves in hundreds of lights that gleamed along the hill-side, and from the valley between Olivet and the city. In sombre contrast with these, the walls of Jerusalem, with their regular outline broken by the temple and scattered turrets, rose black as a rayless night. But as Marduk gazed, the temple suddenly blazed as if with volcanic brilliance. It seemed like some massive altar in the midst of flames that had fallen upon it out of heaven. Every graceful architectural line was revealed, every burnished plate of gold and brass glowed in the fire. Only the outer surface of the city walls remained unillumined, and in their immense mass of darkness made the contrast startling and sublime.