albeit, in
the view of the people, an offence to God.

Among those who dwelt in Caesarea was Elpis, eighth wife of the king,
with her daughter Salome, whose praises had been sung at the banquet of
Antipater. Both were renowned for beauty and the splendor of their
dress. Salome had the colors of the far north, and that perfect and
voluptuous contour found only in marble figures of Venus, above the
great purple sea, and, below it, in the daughters of men. She was
tall, shapely, full blooded. They called her Salome, child of the sun,
because she had the dark of night in her large eyes, the tints of
morning in her cheeks, and the gold of noonday in her hair.

When Manius came to seek her hand the king said, with a smile: "My
noble youth, she is for the like of Achilles--a man of heroic heart and
size. Have you no fear of her?"

Quickly Manius replied: "Know you not, O king! my fathers fought with
Achilles?"

"But they had the protection of the gods," said Herod, with a smile.
"However, you may find her favor sufficient. I have heard her speak
fair of you."

Now a quarrel had arisen between Elpis and a sister of Herod. So,
therefore, to calm a tempest, the adroit king had sent his eighth wife
to live by the sea.

It was a day near the nones of October, when the tribune went to
Caesarea with Manius. There in a great palace, erected by the king,
they met the two renowned women. It was a fete day and the gay people
of Herod's court were in attendance. Salome was dancing, tabret in
hand, her form showing through a robe of transparent silk as the two
entered. Once before, at the door of the king, Vergilius had seen her.

"See the taper of arm and leg," said he, addressing his companion, "She
is wonderful!"

A lithe and beautiful creature, she swayed and bent, with arms
extended, her feet, now slow as the pinions of a sailing hawk, now
swift as the wings of a tilting sparrow. She stopped suddenly, her
form proudly erect, looking at her lover. Now she had the dignity of a
wild deer in the barrens. With one hand she felt her jewelled hair,
with the other she beckoned to him. The young men approached her.

"Children of Aeneas, I give you welcome," said she. Then turning to
Vergilius: "Did Manius tell you that I bade him bring you here?"

"I knew not I was so honored."

"He is jealous. He will not permit me to embrace my little page. I
have wished to meet you, noble tribune, ever since I saw you in my