Of all the forms in flesh and marble none compare with this beautiful daughter of the great king." "May fairest women be for the best men," said Antipater, drinking his wine.
In a dim light along the farther side of the dining-hall was a row of figures, some draped, some nude, and all having the look of old marble.
Two lay in voluptuous attitudes, one sat on a bank of flowers, and others stood upon pedestals.
There were all the varying forms of Venus represented in living flesh.
None, save Antipater and the slaves around him, knew that under each bosom was a fearful and palpitating heart.

They were beautiful slave-girls captured on the frontiers of Judea.

In spite of aching sinew and muscle, they had to stand like stone to escape the observation of evil eyes.

There was a cruelty behind that stony stillness of the maidens, equal, it would seem, to the worst in Hades.
Slaves kept the wine foaming in every goblet, and fought and danced and wrestled for the pleasing of that merry company, and the hours wore away.

Suddenly the sound of a lyre hushed the revels.