t this I swear, that soon
or late Titus shall pay the price and one that he will be loth to give."
Then followed by his secretary and an officer, he turned and left the
audience hall.

"What does he mean?" asked Vespasian, looking after him with anxious
eyes.

"He means that----" and Titus checked himself. "Well, time and my
destiny will show the world what he means. So be it. As for you,
Pearl-Maiden, who, though you know it not, have cost Caesar so dear,
well, you are fairer than I thought, and shall have the best of places
in the pageant. Yet, for your sake, I pray that one may be found who,
when you come to the market-place, may outbid Domitian," and he waved
his hand to show that the audience was at an end.

CHAPTER XXII

THE TRIUMPH

Another week went by and the eve of the Triumph was at hand. On the
afternoon before the great day sewing-women had come to the house of
Gallus, bringing with them the robe that Miriam must wear. As had been
promised, it was splendid, of white silk covered with silver discs and
having the picture of the gate Nicanor fashioned on the breast, but cut
so low that it shamed Miriam to put it on.

"It is naught, it is naught," said Julia. "The designer has made it thus
that the multitude may see those pearls from which you take your name."
But to herself she thought: "Oh! monstrous age, and monstrous men, whose
eyes can delight in the disgrace of a poor unfriended maiden. Surely
the cup of iniquity of my people is full, and they shall drink it to the
dregs!"

That same afternoon also came an assistant of the officer, who was
called the Marshal, with orders to Gallus as to when and where he was to
deliver over his charge upon the morrow. With him he brought a packet,
which, when opened, proved to contain a splendid golden girdle,
fashioned to the likeness of a fetter. The clasp was an amethyst,
and round it were cut these words: "The gift of Domitian to her who
to-morrow shall be his."

Miriam threw the thing from her as though it were a snake.

"I will not wear it," she said. "I say that I will not wear it; at least
to-day I am my own," while Julia groaned and Gallus cursed beneath his
breath.

Knowing her sore plight, that evening there came to visit her one of the
elders of the Christian Church in Rome, a bishop named Cyril, who had
been the friend and disciple of the Apostle Peter. To him the poor girl
poured out all the agony of her heart.

"Oh! my father, my father