tely formed. In her face you read strange records, and on her lips
were promises as rare. Her eyes were tortoise-shell, her hair was black as
guilt.

The prelude had ceased, the movement quickened. With a gesture of
abandonment the girl threw her head back, and, her arms extended, she
fluttered like a butterfly on a rose. She ran forward. The sambuca rang
quicker, the harp quicker yet. She threw herself to one side, then to the
other, her hips swaying as she moved. The buds at her girdle fell one by
one; she was dancing on flowers, her hips still swaying, her waist
advancing and retreating to the shiver of the harp. She was elusive as
dream, subtle as love; she intoxicated and entranced; and finally, as she
threw herself on her hands, her feet, first in the air and then slowly
descending, touched the ground, while her body straightened like a reed,
there was a long growl of unsatisfied content.

She was kneeling now before the dais. Pilate compared her to Bathylle, a
mime whom he had applauded at Rome. The tetrarch was purple; he gnawed his
under lip. For the moment he forgot everything he should have
remembered--the presence of his guests, the stains of his household, his
wife even, whose daughter this girl was--and in a gust of passion he half
rose from his couch.

"Come to me," he cried. "But come to me, and ask whatever you will."

Salome hesitated and pouted, the point of her tongue protruding between
her lips.

"Come to me," he pleaded; "you shall have slaves and palaces and cities;
you shall have hills and intervales. I will give you anything; half my
kingdom if you wish."

There was a tinkle of feet; the girl had gone. In a moment she returned,
and balancing herself on one foot, she lisped very sweetly: "I should like
by and by to have you give me the head of Iohanan--" she looked about; in
the distance a eunuch was passing, a dish in his hand, and she added, "on
a platter."

Antipas jumped as though a hound under the table had bitten him on the
leg. He turned to the procurator, who regarded him indifferently, and to
the emir, who was toying with Mary's agate-nailed hand. He had given his
word, however; the people had heard. About his ears the perspiration
started; from purple he had grown very gray.

Salome still stood, balancing herself on one foot, the point of her tongue
just visible, while from the gallery beyond, in whose shadows he divined
the instigating presence of Herodias, came the grave musi