The sweet laugh that had come from her, the clasp of her pretty hand, her willingness to trust her whole future to his keeping, so moved Crispus that he began to feel a keen regret that he must immediately part from her. He became almost angry with himself for having submitted to the hard terms prescribed by Polemo. As he released her hand she sank back half-swooning in the arms of the other woman, who, at a sign from Polemo, proceeded to draw her gently from the apartment. Till the last Crispus kept his eyes upon her, hoping that, in spite of Polemo, she might raise a corner of her veil, and give him just one glimpse at least of her face. It was not to be, however. She melted away into the shadows around, and he saw her no more. * * * * * The two Romans walked again by the star-lit shore with Beth-tamar far behind them. “What,” asked Titus, who, since the wedding ceremony, had been strangely silent, “what was engraved on the stone of the nuptial ring that you should start so?” He received little enlightenment from the reply of Crispus: “_The image of a temple in flames!_” CHAPTER II THE BANQUET OF FLORUS Early on the morning after his arrival at Cæsarea, Crispus was waited upon at his lodgings by Gessius Florus, procurator of Judæa, who, apprised of Crispus’ coming, lost no time in calling upon the son of the Syrian Legate, that Legate whose word was all-powerful in the East. Previous knowledge had disposed Crispus to take an unfavorable opinion of Florus, an opinion that became strengthened on seeing the man himself. A shallow-minded Greek of Clazomenæ, and no true Roman, he had gained the procuratorship of Judæa, not through merit, but by the influence of his wife Cleopatra, who was a close friend of the reigning Empress Poppæa. Florus, though born in Ionia, had little of the grace that is usually associated with that region, and had Crispus not known otherwise he might have taken the governor, with his round bullet head, furtive greenish-brown eyes, and heavy brutal jaw, for a member of that pugilistic fraternity whose feats with the cæstus were the delight of the lower orders among the Romans. He was desirous that Crispus should form one at a grand banquet, to be held that night in the Prætorium, or procuratorial palace. Crispus was about to decline the honor, when he thought of Athenaïs. For all he knew to the contrary she might be a resident of Cæsarea, and if so, her “royal blood” would certainly entitle her to an invitation. She might be among the guests. He would go, though it would be difficult, if not impossible, to recognize her. Florus withdrew in apparent delight. As for Titus, he departed that same day for Rome, embarking on the good ship _Stella_. “There is no hope of my ever winning Berenice,” he said, though without assigning any reason for coming so suddenly to this lugubrious conclusion.