“Conqueror of the East,” replied Domitian, “Thrower-down of the mountain stronghold called Jerusalem, to which the topless towers of Ilium were as nothing, and Exterminator of a large number of misguided fanatics, in what matter is not your will enough? Yet a boon, O Cæsar. As you are great, be generous,” and with a mocking gesture he bowed the knee to Titus. “What boon do you seek of me, brother, who know that all I have is, or,” he added slowly, “will be—yours?” “One that is already granted by your precious words, Titus. Of all you have, which is much, I seek only this Pearl-Maiden, who has taken my fancy. The girl only, not her property in Tyre, wherever that may be, which you can keep for yourself.” Vespasian looked up, but before he could speak, Titus answered quickly: “I said, Domitian, ‘all I have.’ This maid I have not, therefore the words do not apply. I have decreed that the proceeds of the sale of these captives is to be divided equally between the wounded soldiers and the poor of Rome. Therefore she is their property, not mine. I will not rob them.” “Virtuous man! No wonder that the legions love him who cannot withdraw one lot from a sale of thousands, even to please an only brother,” soliloquised Domitian. “If you wish for the maid,” went on Titus, taking no heed of the insult, “the markets are open—buy her. It is my last word.” Suddenly Domitian grew angry, the false modesty left his face, his tall form straightened itself, and he stared round with his blear, evil-looking eyes. “I appeal,” he shouted, “I appeal from Cæsar the Small to Cæsar the Great, from the murderer of a brave barbarian tribe to the conqueror of the world. O Cæsar, Titus here declared that all he has is mine. Yet when I ask him for the gift of one captive girl he refuses me. Command, I pray you, that he should keep his word.” Now the officers and the secretaries looked up, for of a sudden this small matter had become very important. For long the quarrel between Titus and his jealous brother had smouldered, now over the petty question of a captive it had broken into flame. The face of Titus grew hard and stern as that of some statue of the offended Jove. “Command, I pray you, father,” he said, “that my brother should cease to offer insult to me. Command also that he should cease to question my will and my authority in matters great or small that are within my rule. Since you are appealed to as Cæsar, as Cæsar judge, not of this thing only but of all, for there is much between him and me that needs to be made plain.” Vespasian looked round him uneasily, but seeing no escape and that beneath the quarrel lay issues which were deep and wide, he spoke out in his brave, simple-minded fashion.