To this denudation must be added the ravages of the Arabian and Syrian allies, who, haters of the Jews, had diffused their devastating frenzy so far around that, from the summit of Olivet, neither village nor house, neither tower nor wall, could be seen to break the dreary monotony of the landscape. So mournful a change had passed over the country that in the striking language of Josephus, “_Anyone that had previously known the place, coming on a sudden to it now, would have failed to recognize it!_” It was a scene of utter desolation, a howling wilderness, made more awful by the light of the setting sun, which, half sunk below the horizon, shot a sinister red glare athwart the melancholy waste. In all the wide extent of landscape there was no vestige of life or movement, save at one spot only, where the grim and ever-narrowing circle of fire and steel was slowly extinguishing the life of a once great nation. Berenice set her eyes upon the city, or rather upon what was left of it. Was this the place that the Psalmist had called, “The joy of the whole earth”? Gone was the suburb of Bezetha! Gone was the suburb of Acra! Gone was the citadel of Antonia! Zion and Ophel remained, but woefully wrecked and dilapidated; and the temple--shorn, alas! of its divine sacrifies--still rose as fair as ever, its marble porticoes and golden pinnacles dyed in the blood-red hues of sunset. But how long would it stand? Ah! there was her fear, and she pressed her hand to her throbbing heart. Turning suddenly she caught sight of Crispus, and started. There was a proud trembling of her lip as if she were trying to subdue some emotion--anger probably--that was rising to the surface. “So it was _you_,” said she, taking no notice of his greeting, “who prevented my weekly gift of rams from reaching the temple?” “Nay, it was Tiberius Alexander, though I freely admit that his deed has my approval.” “Why so?” “The Law, princess, was but a shadow of things to come. There is now no need for typical sacrifices when the True Sacrifice has been offered, once and for all. And since the Jew refuses to acknowledge the temporal character of the Law, there is but one way of teaching him the lesson--a stern and terrible way!” It is doubtful whether Berenice, not being versed in Pauline theology, quite comprehended the import of these words; at any rate, she did not reply to them. “They tell me you are great at slaughter,” she said, with a sort of sneer, “and that, as being the first to mount the battlements of Antonia, you have gained a Mural Crown. And now, grown more bold, you seek to take God himself captive.” “Princess, you talk as do the heathen. The Most High dwelleth not in temples made with hands.” “Yet your master Paul was wont to worship in yon edifice.”