Near sunset the following day the alabarch appeared in the porch of the proconsul's mansion,--an incident which would speedily have spread wildly over the Brucheum had not the shrewd Lysimachus come in Roman dress, unostentatiously and hidden by the dusk. The slave who conducted the visitor to the master's presence was suspicious, but he did not lapse from courtesy. If he had prejudices they had to await a popular uproar for expression, and popular uproars at present against the Jews were manifestly in disfavor with the proconsul. Flaccus received the alabarch in the great gloom of his atrium. The torches had not been lighted, the cancelli admitted only dusk. The shadowy shape of the proconsul, relaxed in his curule, alone and immovable, thus surrounded by meditative atmosphere, suddenly appealed to the alabarch as out of harmony with the legate's blunt nature. As the Jew drew near, he saw rolls and parcels of linen and parchment, petitions and memorials, scattered about on the pavement, as if the Roman had let them roll off his table or drop from his hand unconsciously. His elbow rested on the ivory arm of his curule, his cheek on his clenched hand. The undimmed gaze of the Jewish magistrate detected lines in the hard face that he had never seen before. But Flaccus stirred and drew himself up to attention. "Come up, Lysimachus," he said. "There is a chair here, for thee." The alabarch advanced and dropped into the seat that Flaccus had indicated. "This," he observed, nodding toward the dark torch at the proconsul's side, "would lead me to believe thou art inventing rhymes." "Or conspiracies. Plots and poetry demand the same exciting dusk. Well, has the Herod sued?" "Not he, but his lady." "His lady! By Hecate, the mystery is solved. Thus it is that he hath been able to borrow every usurer poor from Rome to Damascus!" "He wins upon her virtue; but withhold thy interpretation of my words until I show thee what they mean. She is beautiful and virtuous; a Herod and married--a conjunction of circumstances in these days so rare as to be out of nature--therefore, phenomenal. So we toss our yellow gold into her lap in recognition of the entertainment she hath afforded--being unusual." "Virtuous; that means, faithful to the man she married. No woman is faithful except she loves her love. A just procession in the order of the Furies' reign. The warm of heart, unrewarded; the unworthy, anointed and worshiped." "This melancholy twilight hath made thee morbid, Avillus. You Romans take womankind too seriously." "When womankind or a kind of woman can drain the world's purse, methinks she is a serious matter. What sum does she want?" "Three hundred thousand drachmae." "O Midas; give her the touch! Let all her possessions be gold! Didst advance it to her?" "If thou wilt remember, it was thy command that I consult thee, first."