The young woman dropped into the seat and gazed wistfully at her hostess. Instinctively, she knew that in this woman was no relief from the darkened life she was to lead with her husband. The Greek's face, palely lighted by a thoughtful smile, vanished in sudden darkness. Laodice saw instead an image of a strong intent face, brightening under the sunrise, saw it relax, soften, grow inexpressibly kind, then pass, as a tender memory taking leave for ever. She was brought to herself by the Greek's rising suddenly. The Ephesian appeared at the arch, tossing mantle and kerchief to the porter as he entered. Laodice rose to her feet with difficulty. It was he, indeed! He was kissing Amaryllis' hand. The Greek was smiling an accusing, conscious smile. She indicated Laodice. The Ephesian's face showed startlement, suspicion and a quick recovery. He bowed low and waited for explanation. "Then I will go," Amaryllis said with amusement in her eyes, "if you are acting pretenses for my sake." [Illustration: Amaryllis the Greek.] She turned toward the arch which led into the interior of the house. The pretender glanced again at Laodice and again at the Greek. "What is the play, lady?" he asked. Amaryllis looked at Laodice standing stony white at her place, and lost her confident smile. "Is this not he?" she asked. "Is this Philadelphus Maccabaeus?" Laodice asked. The Ephesian's face changed quickly. Enlightenment mixed with discomfiture appeared there for an instant. "I am he," he said evenly. "Then," Laodice said, "I am she whom thou hast expected." Philadelphus smiled and dropped his head as if in thought. "One always expects the pleasurable," he essayed, "but at times one does not recognize it when it comes. Who art thou, lady?" "Pestilence, war and the evil devices of men have desolated me," she said coldly. "I have only a name. I am Laodice." "Laodice!" he repeated amiably. "A familiar name; eh, Amaryllis?" Laodice waited. Philadelphus looked again at her and appeared to wait. "I am Laodice," the girl repeated, a little disconcerted, "thy wife." "So!" Philadelphus exclaimed. There was such well-assumed astonishment in the exclamation that she raised her eyes quickly to his face. There was another expression there; one wholly incredulous. "Now did I in the profligacy of mine extreme youth marry two Laodices?" he said. "For another Laodice, wife to me, joined me some days since." Laodice gazed at him without comprehending. "I say," he repeated, "that my wife Laodice joined me some time ago." "Why, I--I am Laodice, daughter to Costobarus, and thy wife!" she exclaimed, while her eyes fixed upon him the full force of her astonishment. He turned to Amaryllis. "What labyrinth is this, O my friend," he asked, "in which thou hast set my feet?" "I do not know," Amaryllis laughed suddenly. "Call the princess."