ister in Rome?"

"I have a sister, but know not where she may be. Cyran the Beloved, so
my mother called her."

Then Vergilius told his companion how he had won her from the son of
Herod and left her in the keeping of Arria. David wept as he listened.

When the tale was finished he spoke bitterly: "'Twas she--the Beloved.
My father was put to death, his property seized, his wife and children
dragged to captivity. My heart is faint with sorrow. God! I weary of
thy slowness.

"Send, quickly send the new king, whose arrows
shall fly as the lightning
Making the mighty afraid and the proud to bow
low and the wicked to tremble."

For a moment they rode in silence. David was first to speak.

"Forgive me," said he, with fear of his imprudence. "My tongue has
gone too far. I am true to Herod, being his debtor, for he gave me
freedom. But I am of the house of David."

"Fear not," said Vergilius. "Never shall I betray the broken hearted.
I give you friendship."

"And I give you gratitude," was the answer of the Jew.

"I am as a child here in Judea and seek understanding. You shall be my
teacher."

For a time neither spoke; soon David asked: "Will you tell me of her my
sister is now serving?"

"Of all the daughters of Rome she is noblest. We love each other. Ah,
friend! 'Tis a wonder--this great love. My tongue halts when I think
of it."

He paused, in meditation.

"I have heard much of it here in Judea--a love that exalts the soul,"
said David.

"And changes the heart of man with all that is in it. My love has
filled me with a tender feeling for all women; it has made me to hate
injustice and even to complain of the gods."

"To complain of the gods!" said David, turning and looking into the
face of his friend.

"It does seem to me they set a bad example and are too childish for the
work they have to do, but still--still I bow before them."

"I do not understand you," said David.

"They are given to spite, anger, vanity, lust, revenge, and idleness.
Caesar is greater than they. He has learned self-control. And this
new king of your faith, who, you tell me, is to conquer the world--he
is no better."

"And why think you so?"

"He is to conquer the world. Good sir, it has been conquered--how many
times! He shall make the mighty afraid--have they not often trembled
with fear and perished by the sword? He shall fling arrows of just
revenge, as if our old earth were not