So cunningly had they contrived to enhance the charm of
the spectacle, those many graceful shapes were under a fine,
transparent veil of water-drops lighted by rainbow gleams and sweet
with musky odor. Circles were closely massed around the base of the
fountain. They stood in silence, all looking down. The old king
surveyed them. Within the palace a hundred harpers smote their
strings, flooding the scene with music. Slowly each circumference
began to move. Step and measure increased their speed. The circles
were now revolving, one around another, with swift and bewildering
motion. At a signal the silent figures broke into song. They sang of
the glories of Jerusalem and the great king. Herod's hand was up--he
would have no more of it. The song ceased, the circles, one by one,
rolled into helices which, unbending into slender lines, vanished
quickly beneath a great arch. Then a trumpet peal and a rattle of iron
wheels. Brawny arms were pushing a movable arena. Swiftly it came
into that ample space between the king and the great fountain.
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