“I doubt whether he would do so to-day, were he living, seeing that there is now no holiness in yon temple. The spirit of true religion has fled from the place. The high priest Phannias is a village rustic, unlawfully chosen by lot, so ignorant that he knows not how to perform the duties of his office. The temple has become a slaughter-house, reeking with innocent blood shed by the wicked Zealots, who have held therein mock trials of the rich, condemning them to death that they may seize upon their wealth. The place is no longer a temple but a citadel. The holy vessels have been melted down to form instruments of war. Assassins pile their arms around the altar, and revelers make themselves drunk in the Sanctuary. It were a shame to speak of the things that have been done there. John’s men, tricked out in feminine garb, have imitated the infamies of the guilty Cities of the Plain. And you would bid us deal tenderly with this place, forsooth! Nay, verily, its stones cry out for the avenging, purifying fire of heaven.” “Or the flaming torch of Crispus,” sneered Berenice. “You think to see the temple destroyed, but it shall not be so. Titus has pledged me his solemn word to preserve it.” “Titus may promise what he will; he cannot overturn the counsels of the Most High.” “Whose instrument you deem yourself to be,” returned Berenice, disdainfully. “I know the secret thought of your heart. A vision sent, not as you vainly think by God, but by Beelzebub, the prince of the devils, is luring you on to a wicked deed. You have desired to take part in the siege for this end only, that when the attack on the temple shall begin you may be able in the confusion to apply an incendiary torch. Do so, and the act shall bring death upon her whom you hold most dear.” “And who is that?” asked Crispus quickly. “Vashti, who, instead of being safe at Pella, as you intended her to be, is a captive at my mercy--my slave to do with as I list. Your act in bringing her forth from Jerusalem has had this result only--to deliver her into my hands the sooner.” Though Crispus tried to receive this startling news with outward calmness, something of the fear felt by him looked from his eyes, and drew a triumphant smile from Berenice. Mistress of Vashti, she was mistress of his action, so she thought, and his action must be the sparing of the temple. “It was by accident I discovered that your Vashti was at Pella. Armed with the written authority granted me by Titus I immediately arrested my slave, and conveyed her to--to----”--No! she would keep the name of the place a secret--“to where you will not find her. Now, mark my words, Crispus Cestius Gallus. If by your hand yon temple burns, so too shall Vashti burn; she shall die, shrieking in a flaming vesture of pitch, even as the Christians died in the gardens of Nero.” “Princess, if yours be the heart of a woman, I am glad to possess the heart of a man.” Berenice laughed, a cold, hard laugh.