And now, amid much mirth, about twenty of the ladies began to prepare for the event. The rest, either from modesty or distrustful of their charms, drew aside, content to look on. Among those who would fain have withdrawn, not only from the contest, but also from the palace itself, was the young girl who had so much attracted the notice of Crispus. “Let us go,” she whispered in a distressed voice to Josephus. “This is no place for me.” But he sought gently to persuade her, by dwelling upon the value and beauty of the jeweled zone, the ease with which it was obtainable, the pride and pleasure she would feel in being hailed as the Queen of Beauty. “The zone will not fall to _me_,” said she. “Look, and see how many beautiful women there are around.” “None so beautiful as you, Vashti.” She shook her golden tresses at what she deemed his partiality. In the end, however, she consented to let her will be overborne by his. The fair contestants were now moving to the place of judgment, a spacious hemicycle at one end of the banqueting hall. Among them were the Princess Berenice, and the Syrian Asenath, the favorite of Ananias. As Vashti moved forward, her air of innocence and purity seemed to give secret offense to the wanton dancing-girl; her lip curled with contempt, and resolving to strip the other of her veil of modesty, she came out with a proposal of a malicious and daring character. “How can it be told,” cried she, “who is the loveliest, so long as we remain clothed? The robe may hide deformities. Let it be a condition, O Florus, that in this contest we appear naked.” Speaking thus, she laid both hands upon her swelling hips ready to fling off her robes at the least encouragement. Now, seeing that in the Floralia at Rome women were accustomed to dance quite naked, and that at Etruscan banquets the ladies often showed their fair forms without any clothing whatever, the proposal of Asenath was not quite so startling as it would be at the present day. There were, of course, screams of dissent from the fair contestants themselves, but to the gilded and decadent youth of that assembly, Gentile and Jew alike, living only for sensuality, Asenath’s suggestion met with a ready approval. Not even the high priest, Ananias, lifted his voice against it. The Princess Berenice stood like a statue, stately and still, neither assenting nor dissenting. As for Vashti, her cheeks had become of a deathly white, her whole air and attitude were eloquent of a vivid horror at finding herself amid a circle of gilded youth who stood by waiting only the word of Florus, to assist her, _volentem_, _nolentem_, in the task of disrobing. “What says the excellent Florus?” cried Asenath. “The proposal seems to me to be fair, for the robe, as you say, may hide deformities. But,” he continued, becoming secretly conscious that Crispus did not favor the idea, “the question is out of my hands; it rests with the adjudicator.”