In the far shadows she distinguished long, silent, mummied windrows of men wrapped in blankets, sleeping.

Huge gloomy piles of provisions filled up shadowy corners; about under the light was the litter left in the wake of human counsel; over all was the air of repose and occupancy that made a home out of the burrow.
Though the place held a great number of refugees, the footstep of the Maccabee wakened resounding emptiness.

At the threshold he slackened his step and looked with pathetic anxiety at whatever light on Laodice's face would show her opinion of her refuge.

But the uncertain torch revealed nothing and he led her in and across to a solitary place where rugs from some looted house had been folded up for a pallet and spread about for carpets.

She sat down and awaited his speech.
He motioned to the spacious barrenness about him.
"Canst thou content thyself in this place ?" he asked, hesitating.
She nodded, but feeling that her reply had not shown all that words might, she lifted her face that he might see therein that which she could not trust her lips to say.
It was her undoing.