Part 18 (1/2)

He smoothed out the crumpled vellum.

”'Say naught to Manius,'” he read again. ”I like it not. I shall write to her that I have other business.”

And so did he, although in phrases of regret, as became one addressing a daughter of the great king.

Sorely vexed, she thought ever of the n.o.ble beauty of the Roman youth, and became more eager to gain her purpose. It may be the girl bore for him a better feeling than she had ever known. She wished, if possible, to win him, knowing that her father would not be slow to help him forward. The handsome youth had pleased her eye, and might, also, gratify her ambition. Those days the art of intrigue was the study of a king's daughter; so, straightway, she invented a cunning plan.

Knowing the great desire of Vergilius, she bribed the priest Lugar to give him crafty counsel. On the very morning of that second day the priest came to him.

”How fares your soul, n.o.ble tribune?” said Lugar.

”I feel it strong in me,” said Vergilius.

”And you would know if it be strong unto salvation?”

”That would I gladly know.”

”Come with me this night and you shall see your soul in the balance.”

”And whither shall we go?”

”To the palace of Laban, steward of the king. I shall come for you soon after the ninth hour.”

”And thereby increase my debt to you,” said Vergilius. ”Remember my soul may not be rejected for lack of grat.i.tude.”

Now in that hour which follows the beginning of night, Lugar and Vergilius were come to the place appointed. Slaves led them through a great hall to the banquet-chamber. There were the daughters of Laban, reclining in graceful ease. The banquet-table had been removed. Now they were taking their feast of old tales and new gossip. They rose and came to meet the young men. Tunics of jewelled gauze covered without concealing forms lovely as the sculptures of immortal Greece and redolent of all rare perfumes.

”And you would see a maidens' frolic?” said one to Vergilius.

Then said he: ”Maidens are ever a delight to me.”

”Ay, they make you to forget,” said the girl.

He thought a moment before answering. ”It may be true,” said he. ”But they keep you in mind of the power of woman.”

Strains of the lyre broke in upon them. Suddenly the centre of the great room was thronged with maidens. The young tribune was full of wonder, knowing not whence they had come. There was a wreath of roses on each brow, and as they gathered in even rank with varicolored robes upon them, they reminded the knight of garden walls in Velitrae.

Quickly they began to mingle, with feet tripping lightly, with bodies bending to display their charms. Threadlike, wavering gleams of ruby, pearl, and sapphire seemed to weave a net upon them. Such a scene appealed to the love of beauty in Vergilius. It awoke dying but delightful memories of the pagan capital--splendors of form and color, glowing eyes and pretty frolic.

”O Venus, mother of love!” he whispered, turning to admire a statue in the dim-lit corner where he stood. Now the eyes of Venus were covered with an arm. Out went his hand to feel the shapely marble. It was warm, and slowly Venus began to move, as did the strains of music, and, presently, whirled away.

”How beautiful!” he said. ”'Tis the magic of a dream.”

His eyes were upon the form of Venus, taller than the others and more n.o.bly fas.h.i.+oned.

”'Tis the great G.o.ddess come to earth,” said he, turning to Lugar.

The music had ceased. The maidens, save two, had flung themselves upon rugs and couches. Venus and another were approaching the Roman.

”Daughter of Herod,” said he, going to meet her, ”I knew you not.”