Vainly did Agrippa and Berenice seek to deter the infatuated populace from a course certain to end in the ruin of the Jewish state. “To your tents, O Israel!” was the answer of the Zealots. “What dealings have we with Cæsar, or what is our portion in Rome?” * * * * * It was eventide, and the silver trumpets were sounding the signal for the closing of the temple-gates, as two figures mounted the stairs leading to the roof of Solomon’s Colonnade. The one was Eleazar, the captain of the temple, the other Simon of Gerasa, who, during several days, had been living in a secret chamber of the sanctuary; for Eleazar could not refuse the right of asylum to a patriot whose stores of wealth, acquired by brigandage, had always been sent by secret and devious methods to the temple treasury. As the two paced the roof they talked, and seldom in the history of the world has talk been more momentous in its consequences. “The people are ripe for war,” said Eleazar with a fierce, exultant smile. “We’ll set them to attack the garrisons in Antonia and the Prætorium.” “Whence shall we obtain the necessary arms?” “You know Masada?” asked Eleazar. It would indeed have been strange if Simon had not known the name, at least, of the famous stronghold, emphatically named Masada--“THE FORTRESS”--built by Jonathan Maccabæus upon a precipitous cliff, fifteen hundred feet in height, overhanging the waters of the Dead Sea, a fastness in which the treasures of Jerusalem had been deposited for security during the troubled times of the Asamonean monarchy. “It contains arms for ten thousand men,” continued Eleazar. “With a Roman garrison to guard them.” “Tush! the garrison is but a slender one, and, aware of this, I have sent off a band to attack the place.” Simon received this startling news with a grim joy. “’Tis a declaration of war,” remarked he. “’Tis meant for such. One must make a beginning.” “But Masada!” remonstrated Simon. “Art mad? The fortress is impregnable.” “And therefore the more easily surprised. An impregnable fortress always renders its garrison careless.” “Who heads this daring expedition?” “Manahem, the son of Judas of Galilee.” “The traitor who bought from Florus the license to plunder!” exclaimed Simon wrathfully; for he and Manahem had long been jealous rivals. “Shall I repel a man who offers me his services?” answered Eleazar. “Four nights ago he descended from the mountains with his guerilla band, and sought me out, bidding me tell him to do something for the cause. I bade him go and take Masada.” “If he succeed, he will indeed be a Manahem,” sneered Simon, playing upon his rival’s name, which in Hebrew signifies Comforter.