all quickly from his height of
greatness, and chain him, hand and foot, and bring him hence. You may
go now."

Vergilius bowed and left the home of Herod. As he went away he fell to
thinking of that girdle's end in his bosom. Although it was past the
middle hour of night, he hastened to the palace of Manius. The
assessor, distraught and pale, started as he met him, and Vergilius saw
at once that an end of the other's girdle had been cut away. The young
tribune drew that piece of braided silk from under his tunic.

"It is yours?" said he, tossing it to Manius.

"I--I had not observed," said the other, nervously, "It is part of the
girdle I wear in deference to the people among whom I live. How came
you by it?"

"Fox! Your cunning will not save you. Tell me first how you escaped
the peril into which you had drawn me."

"I do not understand you."

"But I understand you," said Vergilius, with anger. "There are but two
places in the world for you. One is beyond the boundaries of Rome, the
other is the valley of Hinnom." Having said which, he turned, quickly,
and left the assessor's palace.

CHAPTER 21

Arria and her brother were far from the shores of Hellas and near the
Isle of Doom. Tepas knew that a few leagues more would bring him in
sight of the familiar cliffs. Brother and sister were reclining on the
deck of their trireme. The tenth day of their journey was near its
end. The sun had sunk through misty depths of purple, and now seemed
to melt and pour a flood of fire upon the waters.

"I am weary," said the girl, looking thoughtfully at the calm sea.

"Of me?" said her brother.

"Nay, but of that groaning of the rowers. It tells me of aching arms
in the galley. I cannot sleep at night, hearing it."

Appius laughed with amusement. "Little fool!" said he. "The slaves of
Tepas are all Jews."

"But they are men," said the beautiful girl; "and do you not
understand, dear brother? I love a man."

"Love!" exclaimed Appius, with contempt, "'Tis only as the longing of
the bird for its mate."

"Nay, I would give all for him I love."

"Not all," said he, with a look of surprise.

"Yes, all--even you, and my mother, and my home, and my country, and my
life--I am sick with longing. And when I think of him I cannot bear to
see men suffer."

"You are gone mad," said Appius, "and I pray the gods to bring you
back. It may be the fair Vergilius forgets you."

She turned, quickly, and