"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 nobly fashioned.
"'Tis the great goddess 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."
She took his arm and led him to one of the couches.
"You are very stubborn," said she, looking into his eyes. "You had 'business.'"
"So have I. We came here, as I thought, to confer with--with wise men."
"It may be. I had not learned to look for wisdom where there is beauty."
"And have I not wisdom? Ah, son of Varro, my mother has taught me many mysteries. I can read the future and the past."
She leaned close to his ear and whispered, her arm against his: "I believe in the power of fate. I had much to say and you had not the will to listen. It has brought you and me together,"
"To enchant me with your beauty?" he inquired.
"Nay," said she, her cheek touching his shoulder. "But to instruct you with my wisdom. I see much in your face."
"Apollo!" she whispered, with a sigh; "and the power to be great."
It flattered him, but he knew the sound of fair words.
"In Rome," said he, laughing, "we belittle with compliments."
"In Jerusalem we fill them with sincerity, and often--"
He listened as the daughter of Herod drew closer.
"They convey our love," she added, in a whisper.
"I learn wonderful things every day. But why think you I am to be great?"
"I know the mysteries of fate," she answered, quickly, and with a little resentment of his coldness. "But there is one thing in your way."
"Your work is to be in Judea, and you love, or think you love, a Roman maiden."
"I know that I love her," said he, quickly.
"But love is a great deceiver. You shall not take her for your wife."
"Why?" he demanded, turning and looking into the face of Salome.
