Reduced in its frenzy, his faith had a burning and unconsumed heart to it. Many searched and many accepted it. I went once--with my handmaiden--and heard his preaching. And I saw in it a remedy for the sick world."

Marsyas looked away toward the Synagogue, glittering purely against the dark blue waters of the bay. He felt a recurrence of the old chill that possessed him, when he had failed to shake Stephen in his apostasy. But she went on.

"Since there is but one G.o.d there can be but one religion. I do not expect a new G.o.dhead, but a new interpretation of the ancient one.

Bethink thee; all the world was not Rome, in the days of Abraham or Moses or Solomon or David. This is the hour of the supremacy of one will, one race. Man does not fear G.o.d so much when he does not respect his neighbor at all. Therefore, Rome, being autocrat of the earth, is an atheist. She hath set up her mace and called it G.o.d. There is no hope against Rome unless we hurl another Rome against it. That we can not do, for there is only one world. Sheol will not prevail against Rome, for Rome is Sheol. Only Heaven is left and Heaven does not proceed against nations with an army and banners. There is only one untried power in the list of forces, and the Nazarene hath it in His creed."

Marsyas knew what it was; Stephen was full of it.

"It is a difficult vision to summon," she continued, "but it may fall that a dove and not an eagle shall sit on the standards of Rome and that the dominion of G.o.d and not of Caesar shall prevail on the Capitoline Hill."

She paused, and Marsyas, waiting until he might speak, put out his hand to her.

"I heard another building such fair structures of his fancy and his hopes," he said, with pain on his face. "Even though they were realized to-morrow, he can not see it; I, being broken of heart, could not rejoice. And Lydia--for they call thee by that name--I can not see another in the dust of the stoning-place!"

Her face flushed and paled and he let his hand drop on hers, by way of apology.

"Then, thou wilt give over the companionship of these people?" he persisted gently. She hesitated, and finally said in a halting voice:

"I--went--I knew that--by thy leave, sir, thou camest to them as a peril. Thou wast expected of the authorities, being doubly charged with apostasy and an offense against Rome, and they were permitted to go thither, by the legate, even by this household, in search of thee, when I and all under this roof knew that thou wast not among them.

I--went to give them--warning--"

"Then, the call hath been obeyed," he said kindly. "Shut thy hearing against another. I thank thee, for the Nazarenes. Thou art good and wise and most generous--too rare a woman for Israel to surrender."

She arose, for sounds were coming up the well of the stair, which told of the awakening of the alabarch's household. She wrapped the silk in a closer roll and let the folds of her full habit fall over it. After a little hesitation, she extended her hand to him, and he took it.

Under its touch, he felt that his hour of mastery had pa.s.sed. The gentle, thankful pressure had put him under her command.

When she disappeared into the well of the stairs, Marsyas, glancing about him, saw on the housetop next to him Justin Cla.s.sicus. The philosopher was choicely clad in a synthesis to cover him completely from the chill of the morning air, while yet the warmth of his bath was upon him. His locks were anointed, his fillet in place. Even in undress, he was elegant. He rested in a cathedra, and contemplated his neighbor as distantly as he had the night before.

Not until after he had broken his fast with the alabarch and his daughter and returned again to the housetop did he see any other of the magistrate's guests. Junia's litter brought up at the alabarch's porch, and presently Agrippa came up on the housetop.

"How now?" he exclaimed, seeing Marsyas. "Is it the air or the sense of superiority over the sluggard that invites thee up at unsunned hours?"

"Both," Marsyas replied, giving up the diphros to the prince, "and the further urging of an old unsettled grudge. My lord, when dost thou proceed to Rome?"

"Shortly; after the Feast of Flora, which is to be celebrated soon."

"Nay; I pray thee, let it be directly," Marsyas urged; "for my bitterness unspent bids fair to rise in my throat and choke me!"

"_Proh pudor_! Cherishing a pulseless rancor with all fervor, when thou art here, in arm's reach and in high favor with that which should make back to thee all thou hast ever lost in the world! Oh, what a placid vegetable of an Essene thou art,--in all save hate!"

"I am to go to Rome with thee, my lord."

"Of a surety! My wife sees in thee a kind of talisman which will insure me favor with emperors and usurers, ward off the influence of beautiful women and give me success at dice!"

Marsyas glanced away from Agrippa and his face settled into uncompromising lines. Agrippa continued.

"Nay, thou goest to see that I make no misstep toward getting a kingdom. Welcome! Be thou hawk-eyed vigilance itself. But my pleasure might be more perfect did I know that thine and our lady's determination to crown me were less selfish!"

"Thou shalt not complain of more than selfishness in me," Marsyas answered calmly. "But by my dearest hope, thou shalt live a different life than that which hath ruined thee of late. I know that thou canst win a kingdom by a word; but thou shalt not lose it by a smile. For, by the Lord G.o.d that made us, thou shalt not fail!"

Agrippa turned half angrily upon the young Essene, but the imperfectly formulated retort died on his lips. He met in the resolute eyes fixed upon him command and mastery. Words could not have delivered such a certainty of control. In that moment of silent contemplation the contest for future supremacy was decided. Agrippa frowned, looked away and smiled foolishly.

"Perpol! Did I ever think to lose patience with a man for swearing to make me a king? But mend thy manner, Marsyas. Thou'lt never please the ladies if thou goest wooing with this rattle and clang of siege-engines!"

Junia appeared on the housetop. She came with lagging steps and sank upon the divan, gazing with sleepy eyes at Marsyas.

"I emanc.i.p.ated myself," she said, "from the study of new st.i.tches, the neighbor's dress and the fashion in perfumes. A pest on your rustic habit of early rising! Here we are aroused in the unlovely hours of the raw dawn to achieve business, ere the sun bakes us into stupidity at midday!"

"A needless sacrifice to these Egyptians," Agrippa declared. "They are all salamanders. I saw a serving-woman in this house pick up a flame on her bare palm and carry it off as one would bear a vase."

"Vasti? Nay, but she comes from India; fled from servitude to the Brahmin priesthood to take service with the man who had pitied her once."

"The alabarch?"

"Even so. He bought the gold and onyx plates that he put on the Temple gates, in India, where he saw her and pitied her. So, she fled her owner and sought the world over till she found the alabarch to enslave herself anew."

"So! Small wonder, then, she is annealed like an amphora. Yet I had believed she was a bayadere."

"A bayadere?" Junia repeated.

"A Brahmin dancer, having the peculiarities of an Egyptian almah, a Greek hetaera, and a Pythian priestess, all fused in one. But now that she hath repented, she is rigidly upright and a relentless pursuer of evil-doers."

"Alas!" sighed Junia, still watching Marsyas, "is it not enough to grow old without having to become virtuous?"

Agrippa lifted his eyes to her face, and the look was sufficient comment. But Marsyas had been plunged in his own thoughts and did not hear.

"What is the Feast of Flora?" he asked.

The Roman woman smiled and answered.

"A popular expression of the world's joy over the summer. That was its original motive, but it has been conventionalized into a feast formally celebrating the reign of Flora. It was pastoral, but the poor cities walled away from the wheat and the pastures adopted it, in very hunger for the feel of the earth. It falls in the spring under the revivifying influence of awakening life and the loosed spirit of the populace grows boisterous. We become a city of rustics and hoidens.

Pleasure is the purpose and love the largess of the occasion."

Agrippa smiled absently. These two remarks of diverse character were tentative. She was sounding Marsyas' nature.

"I shall not sail till it is done," Agrippa declared.

"A rare diversion to tempt a man from his ambitions," the young Essene retorted quickly. Junia had made her sounding. She persisted in her latter role.

"It is," she averred. "Flora is elected among the beautiful girls of the theaters; she typifies universal love; she runs, leaving a trail of yellow roses behind her, which lead the mult.i.tude on to the delight she means to take for herself--and that is all. It is merely a pretty feast, but the world is made of many well-meaning though blundering natures; and the revel does not always reach the high mark of refinement at its highest."

Agrippa's eyes on the Roman woman expressed intensest amus.e.m.e.nt and admiration, though they lost nothing of their cool self-possession.

"My lord," Marsyas observed coldly, "there are as choice evils in Rome."

Junia laughed.

"Evil! Tut, tut! How monstrous serious the little world takes itself!