have seen a prince of Jerusalem
and a cohort of the legions of Galilee."

She flung her listener a glance of provoking disdain, then laughed
heartily, as if the ludicrousness of the picture in her mind were
too strong for contempt.

"Instead of a Sesostris returning in triumph or a Caesar helmed
and sworded--ha, ha, ha!--I saw a man with a woman's face and
hair, riding an ass's colt, and in tears. The King! the Son of
God! the Redeemer of the world! Ha, ha, ha!"

In spite of himself, Ben-Hur winced.

"I did not quit my place, O prince of Jerusalem," she said, before he
could recover. "I did not laugh. I said to myself, 'Wait. In the
Temple he will glorify himself as becomes a hero about to take
possession of the world.' I saw him enter the Gate of Shushan
and the Court of the Women. I saw him stop and stand before the
Gate Beautiful. There were people with me on the porch and in the
courts, and on the cloisters and on the steps of the three sides of
the Temple there were other people--I will say a million of people,
all waiting breathlessly to hear his proclamation. The pillars were
not more still than we. Ha, ha, ha! I fancied I heard the axles of
the mighty Roman machine begin to crack. Ha, ha, ha! O prince, by the
soul of Solomon, your King of the World drew his gown about him and
walked away, and out by the farthest gate, nor opened his mouth to
say a word; and--the Roman machine is running yet!"

In simple homage to a hope that instant lost--a hope which, as it
began to fall and while it was falling, he unconsciously followed
with a parting look down to its disappearance--Ben-Hur lowered
his eyes.

At no previous time, whether when Balthasar was plying him with
arguments, or when miracles were being done before his face,
had the disputed nature of the Nazarene been so plainly set
before him. The best way, after all, to reach an understanding
of the divine is by study of the human. In the things superior to
men we may always look to find God. So with the picture given by
the Egyptian of the scene when the Nazarene turned from the Gate
Beautiful; its central theme was an act utterly beyond performance
by a man under control of merely human inspirations. A parable to
a parable-loving people, it taught what the Christ had so often
asserted--that his mission was not political. There was not much
more time for thought of all this than that allowed for a common
respiration; yet the idea took fast hold of Ben-Hur