"There is no rest for me till I find my Zarah; and what care I for shelter when she has but that of a prison!" cried Hadassah. The two women then proceeded on their quest to a quarter of Jerusalem inhabited only by the poorest of the people. Simple as were the garments worn by the widow lady, she carried with her so unmistakably the stamp of a person of distinction, that her appearance there excited surprise amongst the half-clad, half-starved children that stared at her as she passed along. The street was so narrow that the women, meeting a loaded camel in it, had to stand close to the wall on one side, to suffer the unwieldy beast to pass on the other. Hungry lean dogs were growling over well-picked bones cast forth in the way, evil odours rendered the stifling air more oppressive. But Hadassah went forward as if insensible of any outward annoyance. Hephzibah, a miserable-looking old woman, with eyes disfigured and half blinded by ophthalmia, was standing in her doorway, throwing forth the refuse of vegetables, in which she dealt. Anna had frequently seen her before, and no introduction was needed. "Where is Joab?" asked the handmaid, at the bidding of Hadassah. The old crone through her bleared eyes peered curiously at the lady, as she replied to the maid, "Joab has gone forth, as he always goes at cockcrow, to lade his mule with leeks, and melons, and other vegetables and fruits. He will not be back till night-fall." Hadassah pressed her burning brow in thought, and then herself addressed the old woman. "Have you heard from Joab where dwells a week--an Athenian--Lycidas is his name?" "Lycidas? no; there be none of that name in our quarters," was the slowly mumbled reply. "Has Joab never spoken to you of a stranger, very goodly in person and graceful in mien?" persisted Hadassah, grasping at the hope that the singular beauty of Lycidas might make it less difficult to trace him. Hephzibah shook her head, and showed her few remaining teeth in a grin. "Were he goodly as David, I should hear and care nothing about it," said she. "The stranger has a very open hand, he gives freely," observed Anna. The words had an instant effect in improving the memory of the old Jewess. "Ay, ay," she said, brightening up; "I mind me of a stranger who gave Joab gold when another would have given him silver. He! he! he! Our mule is as strong a beast as any in the city, but it never brought us such a day's hire before." "When was that?" asked Hadassah. "Two days since, when Joab had taken the youth to his home." "Can you tell me where that home is?" inquired Hadassah with eagerness. "Wait--let me think," mumbled Hephzibah.