"Ay, my lord," answered the soldier. "When we next see Maccabeus, we must come to closer quarters with him," observed the noble. "Here, my brave men,"--he drew forth a purse heavy with gold--"share this among you, and drink success to the brave." The soldiers could scarcely repress a shout at the unexpected liberality of Pollux. Not one of them so much as looked at Zarah as she glided forth into the open air. Oh, transporting sense of liberty! How delicious was the breath of early morn on the fugitive's cheek; how glorious the open vault spread above her, blushing in the first light of dawn! Pollux experienced, though in a very inferior degree, some of the pleasure felt by his daughter, as he joined her on the broad marble steps which led down from the Grecian-built palace of Antiochus to the platform on which it erected. "This way, my child," whispered Pollux, as drew Zarah in the direction of one of the high narrow streets of Jerusalem. "We must put as much space as possible between us and pursuers before sunrise. Would that we had started hours ago! Many dangers yet are before us." One was nearer than the speaker was aware of. Scarcely had the fugitives entered the nearest street when they encountered a Syrian courtier, splendidly attired, whose unsteady gait betrayed in what manner he had been passing the night. More than half intoxicated as he was, Lysimachus instantly recognized Pollux. "Ha! whither bound?" exclaimed Lysimachus, standing, or rather staggering, in the narrow path directly in front of the fugitives. "I give an account of my movements only to such as have a right to demand it," said Pollux haughtily, attempting to pass his rival, while Zarah kept close behind her father. "The fox has caught sight of the trap--Pollux has found out that I hold his death-warrant," cried Lysimachus; "and that his head must fall at sunrise!" Pollux started at the words of his enemy. "He is making his escape!" continued Lysimachus, in a louder voice; "he's falling off to the Hebrews! but this shall stop him!" and with a quick, unexpected movement, the Syrian plunged a dagger into the breast of Pollux, then himself fell heavily rolling over into the dust! Lysimachus had been struck down by a blow from the hand of Lycidas, who had been but a few paces behind him! Zarah had caught sight of the Greek, and of the venerated form of Hadassah at that momentous crisis; her eyes riveted on them, she had not seen the blow inflicted on her father, who, though mortally wounded, did not instantly fall. For Pollux also beheld his mother, and the sudden, unexpected vision of her from whom he had so long been divided, seemed to have power to arrest even the hand of death. Parent and son met--they clasped--they locked each other in a first--a last embrace! "Oh, mother," exclaimed Zarah, "he has saved me; he is your own son again, devoted to his country--to his God!"