“Sons,” he said, “seeing that there are but two of you who together, or one after the other, must inherit the world, it is an evil-omened thing that you should quarrel thus, since on the chances of your enmity may hang your own fates and the fates of peoples. Be reconciled, I pray you. Is there not enough for both? As for the matter in hand—this is my judgment. With all the spoils of Judæa, this fair maid is the property of Titus. Titus, whose boast it is that he does not go back upon his word, has decreed that she shall be sold and her price divided between the sick soldiers and the poor. Therefore she is no longer his to give away, even to his brother. With Titus I say—if you desire the girl, Domitian, bid your agent buy her in the market.” “Aye, I will buy her,” snarled Domitian, “but 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 Cæsar 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.