Only from under the turban shone the eyes, which were bright and piercing as coals of fire.
The stranger advanced without a word, till he stood before Pompeius, then knelt and made an elaborate Oriental prostration.

The noble Romans, twelve or more of the magnates of the greatest power on the earth, held their breath in uneasy anticipation.

Not one of them perhaps really believed in a personal god; but though atheists, they could not forswear their superstition.

Piso, the censor, who notoriously feared neither divine nor human law in his reckless life, spat thrice to ward off the effects of the evil eye, if the stranger were a magician.
"Ulamhala," said Pompeius, addressing the newcomer, "arise.

Since I have been in the East,[89] I have consulted you and your science of the stars, in every intended step, and your warnings have never failed." [89] "Chaldean" astrologers played an almost incredibly important part among even the highest-class Romans of the period.
"My lord doth overcommend the wisdom of his slave," replied Ulamhala (for such was his name) in Syriac Greek, with a second deep obeisance.
"Now, therefore," went on Pompeius--and his voice was unsteady with evident excitement and anxiety,--"I have called you hither to declare the warnings of the stars upon the most important step of my life.
What lies now at stake, you know full well.