The stranger, moving a step or two, made answer: "I have heard a little of this Simon of Cyrene, yet not much. He is a priest We all sleep in the tents of Shem- But what, O strangers, of my former questions? Is Simon of Cyrene very rich? Or liveth he only grandly? The two are not the same, ye wot. Is he safe or in danger? Doth he need help, as do most rich men? Hath he many servants, and hath he a capable steward over them, or" (he began to laugh as it were a right good joke) "needeth he yet another?"

Defectus grinned long. "He can have as many as he needeth, for he hath bought and sold Rome," said he.

"The whole world," corrected Vulgus.

"He is a thief," went on Defectus.

"Hath already a many servants," added Mobilis.

"He hath lost a steward lately, as I hear," put in Curiosus. "I should like myself to know much more about the matter."

Then said all together, "He is never safe, and he hath no friends. Beware thou of him, and help him not in any wise-lest thou also suffer, even as thou seemest truly to have done already."

And at this very time, the man Ridiculus and that other fool which hight Stupidus, grabbing at the bandage which swathed the stranger's face all round about, tore it completely away for a joke, and thenstood staring.

Yea, they looked very much ashamed. And, turning, they went slowly to the back of the crowd.

And a many of the others, when they had looked on the bare and naked contenance of this man, turned round quickly, and gat them to a distant portion of the street-but only in time to shout: "The Lord! The Lord!"

Then came Cæsar, passing in his litter of gold. Anteambulatores went before him, pedisequii behind, and after these his many guards in steel and brass and flaming scarlet. A trumpet blew. The walls echoed. One cried, "Cæsar goeth to the games!" The people fell and grovelled on their faces, moaning: "O Cæsar! Cæsar, thou art God!" Cæsar looked at the multitude with anxious scrutiny, for he wished to know whether his influence over his people (that is, as a god) was in any wise getting less.

About this time the brazen doors of Simon's domus groaned on their hinges, and, at the end, did utter a cry, a shriek of pain intolerable. And a many of the crowd that were nearest the gates when they heard the turning, suddenly stood up, and rushed thickly into the mighty building, leaving the god of all the world, even Cæsar, with an arrow of envy rankling in his foolish heart.

CHAPTER XLII

THE HOUSE OF THE JEW AND THE HOUSE OF THE SERPENT

Now in his secret chamber, the place whereof was known to none but himself, Simon of Cyrene had faintly heard his old slave, Chronos (he that sate in the distant atrium by the side of the silver water clock, bearing in his hands a great scythe) moaning (like as it were a voice from beyond the tomb): "Conticinium, conticinium! A new day is born. Be ye, therefore, merry, and lay all fears away." Simon thereupon quickly arose, and, from a secret vantage ground, beheld that the peoples were gathering (as he had feared that they might not do) in the square before his palace. He knew that he was overglad that they had come. Apparelling himself, he partook of certain viands, and further prepared that he might go forth and hold his levy in the hall of gold.

But then a great fear knocked at his heart, and he stopped with his hand on the secret door of the room, feeling as it were all the pulses in his veins. "O Adonai! Adonai! I, thy priest, am wholly afeard, for lo I have had a sordid combat with this world."

And he asked, Had there been a purpose running through his life. Yea, by the gold that is in the Temple. And so should there continue forevermore to be? Yea, by the very shekinah. "And when I have no further need of thee, I will break thee and yet keep thee."

Simon of Cyrene, pressing upon the door, it gave. And he left his safe, prayer-filled cubiculum, and, by a narrow passage, went into another not quite so secret, way. And so, by soft degrees, came forth unto certain wider and less hidden corridors, which those of his servants whom he most nearly trusted, did also, in some manner, know about.

Now he had well-nigh reached the closed, narrow gate which would open upon his dais in the hall of audience.

Again he paused.

For there came upon him, of a sudden, the premonition of a happiness greater than he had ever known before-mingled, however, with fears (which came again) of blackest dye. "Perhaps," thought he, "such moods are common to the exalted."

The exalted!

He was clad, this Simon of Cyrene, in a golden gear, and he knew that, as he walked, his limbs were bathed in showers of flaming splendor. The walls about him were of curious marble set with plates of shining gold and gems. Yet was his heart wax, and his limbs water.

For he knew in his soul that all of the things which he mundanely was, and all of the things which ever he might mundanely hope to be, were built and founded on the fickle will of Cæsar.

Then he went on yet a little nigher to his audience room, but with ever a more and more doubtful heart, so that, at length, he took vain counsel with himself whether he should then and there go into the chamber, or should wait till another day. In the end, he thought he would take his fortune, God being with him. Yet he continually turned over in his mind how he might do in this case and again in that, and he also felt for his swords beneath his splendid garments, and found them, and gloried in his strength, which had never yet been vanquished.

He opened the gate, and threw it from him, as he that was lord of the place might very well do.

And he entered in all his shining vesture.

And the audience was hushed.

And he went quickly and sate upon his golden seat in the middle of the dais, which was of amber. And alabaster pillars were set and ranged on the borders of the dais, to the right hand and to the left, and over the pillars clomb many a vine whose leaves were made of the dust of emeralds and whose grapes were single rubies. And the colors of the place were those of a tropical forest, but nowhere was there any graven image, or a sign of the gods or of God. And there was ever a little music far away, and waves of myrrh and cinnamon ran continually into the chamber.

Then, as the Jew had not yet spoken, the standing multitude burst into loud acclaim and wishes of prosperity at this, the earliest, levee of the Jew.

Simon said unto them, "I thank you all: be seated."

When the audience was set in their silver seats, the master of the house would then have spoken a little speech to them, but many a peregrinus came forward toward him quickly, laden with lordly presents, as though he were a king. Great horns of ivory they bore, from Cyrenaica; bowls and baths of silver from the Laurion mines; out of Africa, peacocks and apes; from Persia frankincense and myrrh; and stuffs of silk from China, and byssus out of Egypt, and clanking, clamorous ingots from the Mines of the Wretched.

And sweet were the words that went with each of the gifts, and at the giving of each gift and the making of each speech, the crowd again arose, shouted wild acclaims and wishes for yet greater prosperity unto him that ruled this house.

Then up ran negroes, who beat their brows on the pavement before

the Jew's throne, crying: "We are sent unto thee, O Simon of Cyrene, by Nummus and Praesens Pecunia to be as thy slaves forever; and this is also a gift.

Again there were loud acclaims. Defectus cried, "Great is Simon of Cyrene, Simon the just and the merciful!" Mobilis and Vulgus echoed Defectus, shouting, even as it were with trumpets: "Just and merciful! Just and merciful!"

Arose Simon of Cyrene in all his robes of regal splendor (remembering that so he had oft beheld himself, dreaming in the Mines of the Wretched, and, underneath a bag, about the Roman Campagna) and said unto those assembled: "Fellow citizens of Rome, clients and visiting peregrini, and mine own familia also: welcome unto you into this room of audience. Twice and three times welcome. Be ye once more seated. Each and every morning, come ye yet again into this hall of audience. For ye shall be ever welcome till time shall be for me no more."

Then cried Ridiculus and Defectus in a common voice, "Music! Music! Simon of Cyrene is a merchant of endless genius: let us hear his voice!" Vulgus and Mobilis echoed, "Let us hear his voice!"

But Simon said, "Not music first. It is meet that justice should, at the outset of an audience, be arranged for. And behold, I am truly sorry that he who was hitherto my steward (Vociferatio Religiosus) hath proved unworthy, and been sent out of my home. The man was a Christian, and, at that, unworthy." He had well-nigh added, "as are all idolaters," but sealed his lips, and none too soon. "Now I have no steward that shall lead the claimants up, but only the atriensis. Yet may he suffice."

There then was led up unto the Jew a man which lived in the Forum Boarium. He cried, "A boon, powerful Lord! Spare thou my brother, who is much in debt to thee, and hath nothing. And give him a gift of moneys (a thousand sesterces, if thou likest) that he may start once more in life."

Simon inquired, "Thy brother's name?"

"Anopheles" (Useless).

Said Simon unto him, "It is ever pleasanter to grant than to withhold. Moreover, that this, mine earliest act at this mine earliest sessions, may be prophetic of a kindly future for the house, I do hereby grant all thou askest. Be it so, Secretary. Make thou the record, and thou, O Treasure-bearer, pay the sum."

There was then brought up unto the Jew a scrawny man in rags, who was a-tremble. At first he could not speak. Then said he, "Mercy, Master. Kill me not. I have run from thy country place

beyond the Alps, and would say to thee how miserable we are, all thy slaves that be in that place. For lo, we are beaten every day until we fall to earth. And this is by him thou didst settle over us. Little have we to eat at any time or clothes to wear, or medicine for sickness. And pestilence breeds among us every hour."

Said Simon to his servants, "Take thou this man and feed him well, and set him in better apparel. See unto it that a proper one is put above my slaves whence he hath come. Fail not." He smiled upon the messenger, and kissed him, and lifted him up.

Then cried out Defectus (and was echoed as before), "O wonderful Jew! O patron of all the arts, likewise of mercy!"

And one in a corner cried, in a little harsh voice: "Music! Let us have the music!"

Others shouted, chief among them Defectus: "Let us hear thy voice, O Simon of Cyrene, thy most incomparable voice."

Simon said unto them, No, he sang not any more.

But they would not be appeased.

Then called Simon a certain slave, a Greek, Harmonius, saying: "Hear ye him: he is my musician."

And when the Greek had both played and sung a song about the uncertain tenure of power, wealth, and life, and had finished his music, he stepped softly up before his master, and, with a delicate little mystery, handed unto him a shepherd's harp.

Simon took the harp, and looked upon it, and slowly suffered his fingers to stray among the founts of sweet melody. Even as oft he had played in far Pentapolis, so played he now, singing of his old-time life among the sheep-filled pastures.

And the lights of flattery died out of innumerable faces. And some of the peoples turned down their eyes, beholding again the sweetness of days that were gone, while others, gazing wide-eyed on walls or ceiling, were happily alone with what they had wished to be. And one did hide his face within his garment, that his soul's nakedness might not be seen.

When Simon had finished, he said, softly in the magic hush: "Come hither, sweet one,' unto a child that stood near his throne. And he gave her the harp to keep as a gift forever, saying afterwards: "Wast thou one of my petitioners, and have I overlong delayed thee, little statue of a mighty joy?"

Said the child, "I am one of many children who have brought thee gifts. And lo! we were frightened, and had no chance that we should say unto thee the things we were bidden to say. But now we say them: Out of the hills of far Calabria do we come, bearing sun