Vergilius | Page 8

a brilliant company--gay youths all, who could tell the new
stories and loved to sit late with their wine. As they waited for dinner
many tempting dishes were passed among them. There were oysters,
mussels, spondyli, fieldfares with asparagus, roe-ribs, sea-nettles, and
purple shellfish. When they came to their couches, the dinner-table was
covered with rare and costly things. On platters of silver and gold one
might have seen tunny fishes from Chalcedon, murcenas from the
Straits of Gades, peacocks from Samos, grouse from Phrygia, cranes
from Melos. Slaves were kept busy bringing boar's head and sow's
udder and roasted fowls, and fish pasties, and boiled teals. Other slaves
kept the goblets full of old wine. Soon the banquet had become a revel
of song and laughter. Suddenly Antipater raised a calix high above his
head.
"My noble friends," he shouted, "I bid you drink with me to Arria,
sister of Appius, and fairest daughter of Rome--"
Vergilius had quickly risen to his feet. "Son of Herod," said he, with
dignity, "I am in your palace and have tasted of your meat, and am
therefore sacred. You make your wine bitter when you mingle it with
the name of one so pure. Good women were better forgotten at a
midnight revel."
A moment of silence followed.
"My intention was pure as she," Antipater answered, craftily. "Be not
so jealous, my noble friend. I esteem her as the best and loveliest of
women."
"Nay, not the loveliest," said the young Manius, an assessor in Judea. "I
sing the praise of Salome, sister of our noble prince. Of all the forms in
flesh and marble none compare with this beautiful daughter of the great
king."

"May fairest women be for the best men," said Antipater, drinking his
wine.
In a dim light along the farther side of the dining-hall was a row of
figures, some draped, some nude, and all having the look of old marble.
Two lay in voluptuous attitudes, one sat on a bank of flowers, and
others stood upon pedestals.
There were all the varying forms of Venus represented in living flesh.
None, save Antipater and the slaves around him, knew that under each
bosom was a fearful and palpitating heart. They were beautiful
slave-girls captured on the frontiers of Judea. In spite of aching sinew
and muscle, they had to stand like stone to escape the observation of
evil eyes. There was a cruelty behind that stony stillness of the maidens,
equal, it would seem, to the worst in Hades.
Slaves kept the wine foaming in every goblet, and fought and danced
and wrestled for the pleasing of that merry company, and the hours
wore away. Suddenly the sound of a lyre hushed the revels. All heard
the voice of a maiden singing, and turned to see whence it came. A
sweet voice it was, trembling in tones that told of ancient wrong, in
words full of a new hope. Had life and song come to one of those white
marbles yonder? Voice and word touched the heart of Vergilius--he
knew not why; and this in part is the chant that stopped the revels of
Antipater:
"Lift up my soul; let me not be ashamed---I trust in Thee, God of my
fathers; Send, quickly send, the new king whose arrows shall fly as the
lightning, Making the mighty afraid and the proud to bow low and the
wicked to tremble. Soon let me hear the great song that shall sound in
the deep of the heavens; Show me the lantern of light hanging low in
the deep of the heavens."
The voice of the singer grew faint and the lyre dropped from her hands.
They could see her reeling, and suddenly she fell headlong to the rug
beneath her pedestal. Antipater rose quickly with angry eyes.
"The accursed girl!" said he. "A Galilean slave of my father. She is

forever chanting of a new king."
Hot with anger and flushed with wine, he ran, cursing, and kicked the
shapely form that lay fainting at the foot of its pedestal.
"Fool!" he shouted. "Know you not that I only am your king? You shall
be punished; you shall enter the cage of the leopard."
He went no further. Vergilius had rushed upon him and flung him to
the floor. Antipater rose quickly and approached the young Roman, a
devil in his eyes. Vergilius had a look of wonder and self-reproach.
"What have I done?" said he, facing the Jew. "Son of Herod, forgive
me. She is your slave, and I--I am no longer master of myself. I doubt
not some strange god is working in me, for I seem to be weak-hearted
and cannot bear to see you kick her."
The declaration was greeted with loud laughter. Antipater stood
muttering as