y movements bring the Roman knights to
Palaestina, in their pride of birth they do not wed the black-eyed
daughters of the Jews. On your earlier expedition to Egypt you met
a princess of the land, but were not let to espouse that swarthy
maiden of the Nile. The reward of love cannot be the experience of
which the augur spoke at Brundisium."

"Not so," says Quintus in response; "as I was leaving Rome, it was
the beautiful Lucretia who sent me forth with her rare farewell.
For my return from Palaestina she is now waiting; and under the
blue skies of Italia we are to wed. I have been wondering,"
Quintus adds further, "if the augur, watching the flight of birds
there at Brundisium. could mean that I am to fall by death, here
in Palaestina. We have not come for battle, but to guard the
peace. Yet it is easy for Atropos, that cruel fate, to clip the
slender thread of life and send men on to die land of shades. If
this was what the augur meant, no Roman in the days of Tiberius has
ever set forth upon a more serious adventure."

"You are given to melancholy, this autumn afternoon, my comrade
Quintus," the other says; "you are feeling that sadness which comes
to men when the Dryads move over the earth and touch the leaves
into crimson and gold and brown."

"Not so," answers Quintus; "but I am remembering that I have come
into a land where a strange Teacher is speaking to men of a future
life. Yet are men to live again? I have seen the marble tombs on
the Appia Via where the Scipios, the Metelli, and so many more of
our great Romans lie asleep. Shall I soon follow them? Is it an
endless slumber? What is it that the new Rabbi from Nazareth
means, when in the city yonder he speaks of another life?"

"A fig for your weird autumn fancy," responds Aulus; "down to the
streets of Hierosolyma we will go, and among their novel sights we
will forget your serious meditations."

They walk that afternoon as sightseers through the crowded Jewish
emporium. The shops remind them, with all their contrasts, of the
marts of Rome, for men always and everywhere have the trader's
passion. In the narrow streets of Jerusalem they see the stir of
many activities. The workman is hammering his brass; the shoemaker
shapes his sandals; the flax spinner is winding his thread; the
scribe sits on his mat, and is ready for his writing. In the shops
they see costly merchandise for sale--silks and jewels, fine linens
and perfumes, deliciou