It was a revelation to Crispus to hear the hitherto submissive and gentle Vashti taking this bold stand, and he loved her the more for it. There was no tremor in her voice, nor did she shrink in the least from the fierce gaze of the princess. Indeed, Vashti, in her proud fearlessness, looked at that moment far more of a princess than did Berenice. What wonderful power was it that enabled her thus to brave a mistress who, if she chose, could order her off to instant scourging? “You dare speak thus to _me_?” exclaimed Berenice amazedly. “O, I see. A freewoman all these years, you cannot yet realize that you are a slave. I will overlook your offense. Go! Bring hither the flagon of wine that you were bidden to pour out for my guests.” But Vashti shook her pretty golden tresses, and cast an arch smile at those reclining at Berenice’s triclinium. “Nay, verily, if they desire the wine let them wait upon themselves; or perhaps _you_, princess, will play the part of cup-bearer.” Berenice stood completely dumfounded at these audacious words from one who had hitherto behaved as her submissive slave. The men looked on with smiles of wonder and amusement; the women were more disposed to side with the princess. “The slave claims to be a Christian,” sneered Agrippa to a fair lady by his side. “That explains her insolence,” replied his partner. “I once had one of those creatures among my household, and know the trouble they give. Were I the princess, I would whip the new religion out of her.” “The girl must be mad,” exclaimed Berenice. “On your knees and cry pardon, or----” Vashti turned disdainfully away. “It has pleased me for a time to abide in your house as a slave,” said she. “It pleases me now to resume my freedom. Give your commands to others. There is but one person here who shall have my obedience, and that is my lord Crispus.” She walked to where Crispus stood--for he had risen to his feet--laid an appealing hand upon his arm, and looked with trusting eyes into his. The supreme moment had come! But how was he to save her? His plan had melted into thin air. It was all very well to claim Berenice as his wife, but the cold conviction suddenly struck him that his claim was based not upon proof, but upon conjecture merely. If Berenice chose to deny his statement, as she undoubtedly would, how could he make his word good? He turned his eyes upon Josephus, but that priest made no movement, uttered no word. “Not yet,” he seemed to be saying. “Guards!” cried Berenice, addressing some of her own soldiers, who were stationed at intervals along the wall of the banqueting chamber. “Drag yon girl away, and bring whips hither. Since her defiance of me is public, so, too, shall her scourging be.” Even these words did not disturb Vashti’s serenity. Her pitying smile, implying as it did that she was secure from the threatened punishment, lashed Berenice into a secret fury.