Then the bearer of the colors remarked: "It might be the squad of
Manius."
"God curse him!" said Vergilius, quickly, his heart filling with
passion dark as the night around. He heard no more the great song, but
only the smite of steel in deadly combat. He seemed to see his enemy
fall bleeding at his feet. "I will take what Herod offers," he
thought. "I will make war on the cats and the serpents."
He had forgotten everything now save his bitterness.
"See! 'Tis gone!" said his friend, in a loud whisper. "The star is
gone! I saw it disappear as if a cloud were suddenly come over it."
All drew rein, looking into the sky. Many stars were now uncovered in
the vault above them.
"'Twas a light on the hills," said Vergilius, with a vague fear in him.
"Yonder I can see a smaller one. 'Tis a lantern. Look! It moves."
Suddenly they were startled by a mighty voice that seemed to travel far
into dark and lonely caverns of the sky. Like a trumpet-call it
resounded over the gloomy hills---that cry of the camel-rider:
"Where is he that is born king of the Jews?"
Vergilius whispered, his awe returning: "They are coming--those men who
rode the camels.
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