“What a fascinating goddess Jerusalem is!” he exclaimed softly. “She intoxicates us all when we first come within her walls; but you will find that the charm will wear off when you have been here a few days. A bird’s-eye view of the city is more satisfactory, I think, than a closer inspection. She doesn’t improve on acquaintance, for beneath her apparently peaceful exterior, there rises the humbug of her ecclesiastical show-places, the wrangle of creeds. When you have seen all the sights of the place, you will find that your pleasing sensations have gradually evaporated. At least, that was my experience on my first visit here.” “You are more matter-of-fact than I am,” she rejoined, almost reproachfully. “I am sure that to me Jerusalem will always remain the same.” She closed the casement and turned away, a thoughtful expression in her eyes. She could not imagine why the sight of the city should raise such emotions in her, since she was not bound to it by ties either of race or faith. She was always moved by places of historic interest, it was true, and she remembered how greatly she had been stirred by her first view of the seven hills of Rome; but Jerusalem impressed her in an entirely different way, and one which she could not so easily explain. She had looked forward with no especial pleasure to her sojourn in the Holy City, and had come merely because her husband wished it. Now, however, her feeling was one of inexplicable delight. She would not have missed the visit for the world. CHAPTER VIII AMID THE SACRED SCENES