"To-day, to-day, my wrath shall descend upon him and my gratitude upon you! These forty years have I been seeking a man of honor.

At last, at last, here is the greatest of men! I, Herod, surnamed the Great, king of Judea, conqueror of hosts, builder of cities, bare my head before you!" He removed his jewelled crown; he drew off his purple tarboosh, and bowed before the young tribune.

Tenderly Vergilius replaced them on the gray head.
"O king," said he, bowing low, "you do me great honor." Herod closed his eyes and muttered feebly.

Again remorse and age had flung their weight upon him.

His hard face seemed to shrink and wither, and the young man thought as he looked upon it, "What a great, good thing is death!" The king opened his eyes and piped, feebly: "Help me; help me to win the favor of my people! You shall be procurator, commander of the forces, counsellor of kings, priest of God." The king waited, but Vergilius made no reply.