A week went by, during which time Miriam and Marcus did not meet, as no further sittings were arranged for the completion of the bust. In fact, they were not needful, since she could work from the clay model, which she did, till, labouring at it continually, the marble was done and even polished. One morning as the artist was putting the last touches to her labours, the door of the workshop was darkened and she looked up to see Marcus, who, except for his helmet, was clad in full mail as though about to start upon a journey. As it chanced, Miriam was alone in the place, Nehushta having gone to attend to household affairs. Thus for the first time they met with no other eyes to watch them. At the sight of him she coloured, letting the cloth fall from her hand which remained about the neck of the marble. “I ask your pardon, Lady Miriam,” said Marcus, bowing gravely, “for breaking in thus upon your privacy; but time presses with me so that I lacked any to give notice to your guardians of my visit.” “Are you leaving us?” she faltered. “Yes, I am leaving you.” Miriam turned aside and picked up the cloth, then answered, “Well, the work is done, or will be in a few minutes; so if you think it worth the trouble, take it.” “That is my intention. The price I will settle with your uncles.” She nodded. “Yes, yes, but if you will permit me, I should like to pack it myself, so that it comes to no harm upon the journey. Also with your leave I will retain the model, which by right belongs to you. I am not pleased with this marble; I wish to make another.” “The marble is perfect; but keep the model if you will. I am very glad that you should keep it.” She glanced at him, a question in her eyes, then looked away. “When do you go?” she asked. “Three hours after noon. My task is finished, my report—which is to the effect that the Essenes are a most worthy and harmless people who deserve to be encouraged, not molested—is written. Also I am called hence in haste by a messenger who reached me from Jerusalem an hour ago. Would you like to know why?” “If it pleases you to tell me, yes.” “I think that I told you of my uncle Caius, who was pro-consul under the late emperor for the richest province of Spain, and—made use of his opportunities.” “Yes.”