"But who is it that stands without?" Agrippa continued.
"The Essene."
"What! Marsyas? By the Nymphae—beshrew me! By the beard of Balaam, I shall be glad to see him! Fetch him hither!"
Silas nodded in lieu of a bow.
"Lord, there is one with him; shall she enter also?"
"Who?"
"The alabarch's daughter."
"Nay! The little Athene! Terpsichore's best! Not so; though, by Bacch—Balaam! she would be a fit jewel for this place. It shall be an audience hour. Go, summon the queen, and have the Essene and his priestess come to us in our hall!"
The master of horse backed away, but, catching Agrippa's smiling eye, turned his back, remembering his privilege, and hurried out, as if he expected an arrow between his shoulders.
The king shut down the lid of the shittim-wood chest upon the priceless trifles still unpacked, locked it, and said the while to himself: