"
That morning as they left the old city, Vergilius and the young Jew
rode abreast.
"Tell me," said the former, presently, "what know you of the new king?"
"Of him I have thought much and know little," said David. "My mother
taught me to look for him. That was before the evil days."
"And you learned what of her?"
"Little save the long hope. She taught me an old chant of the coming.
If you wish, I will sing it."
Being bidden, he sang, as she had sung who hushed the revels of
Antipater, of signs and fears and of arrows to fly as the lightning.
Words, melody, emotion, the note of inveterate wrong, were those of the
slave-girl.
"The same nose and blue eyes, and fair, curly locks--the same feeling
and chant of faith," said Vergilius, thoughtfully. "Did you not live
in Galilee and suffer ill fortune?"
"We lived in Galilee, and, by-and-by, were as those hurled into
Gehenna."
"And have you a sister in Rome?"
"I have a sister, but know not where she may be. Cyran the Beloved, so
my mother called her."
Then Vergilius told his companion how he had won her from the son of
Herod and left her in the keeping of Arria.
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