“_Am_ I your wife, Crispus?” said Vashti gravely. “Was not that ceremony at Beth-tamar somewhat heathenish in character?” “You speak truth, dearest. We must have the blessing of the Church on our union. To-morrow we will set out for Jerusalem, where the good bishop Simeon shall join our hands.” At this point a centurion made his appearance with a message to the effect that Titus desired the presence of Crispus and his lady. Responding, though with considerable reluctance, to this summons, the two repaired to the Ivory Hall, where they found Titus seated beside Berenice with Josephus standing near. “Be seated, noble Crispus and the lady Vashti.” Titus spoke with genuine affability; as for Berenice her disdainful air showed that the presence or the absence of the pair was a matter alike of indifference to her. “I have asked Josephus,” began Titus, when the centurion had withdrawn, leaving the five together, “to tell me the meaning of the strange business at Beth-tamar. He is very urgent that you also should be present to hear him. Hence my sending for you.” With that he nodded to the priest as a sign for him to proceed. “It may be, sire,” began Josephus, “that what I have to say will give sharp offense to one of my hearers.” Crispus guessed that Berenice was meant. “Therefore, ere I begin, I must receive assurance from you that the utterance shall not bring punishment upon the utterer.” “Say what thou wilt; abuse me, if it please thee; thy tongue shalt have free license to-night.” Assured thus, Josephus began. “I have but lately returned, O Cæsar, from a visit to Pontus, where it was my fortune to meet with Zeno, the secretary of the royal Polemo, and seemingly a man well acquainted with the secrets of the late king. It is partly from this Zeno, and partly from my own knowledge, that I derive the materials for the story I am about to relate.” At the mention of the names Polemo and Zeno, Berenice, who had hitherto betrayed a languid indifference, began to appear as if keenly interested. “Many years ago--twenty-three, to give the exact number--the Princess Berenice, then in her twentieth year, married Polemo, king of Pontus, who, after two years, repudiated her, for a reason the princess herself knows.” Here Josephus ceased speaking, checked by Berenice’s haughty and indignant stare. “Is it necessary to bring _my_ name into your narration?” “Absolutely necessary.” “Then I will tell you the reason of our separation. He did not repudiate me; I left him of my own free will, left him because, prior to our marriage, he, himself a proselyte, promised that he would do all in his power to bring the people of Pontus over to Judaism. He failed to redeem his word, however--nay, he actively thwarted my attempts at proselytism, and so I left him.” “Was there not a daughter born of this marriage?” Berenice’s eyes flashed fire.