Vergilius followed to the deep atrium of the palace, where they stood alone.
"You have one thing I desire, and I will pay you five thousand aurei to relinquish it—five thousand aurei," the Jew whispered.
"And what is it you would buy of me, noble prince?"
"A mere plaything! A bouquet that will fade shortly and be flung aside. The thing happens to suit my fancy, and—and I can afford it."
In the moment of silence that followed this remark a stern look of inquiry came into the face of Vergilius.
"Man, do you not know? 'Tis the sister of Appius," Antipater added, lightly.
"Cur of Judea!" hissed the knight, his sword flashing out of its scabbard, "I shall cut you down and fling you out to the dogs. Fight here and now. I demand it!"
The young Roman spoke loudly and stood waiting. Those others had heard the challenge and were now coming near. Antipater stood silent, glaring, as had the leopard, with an evil leer at his foe, and thinking no doubt of the warning of Augustus. The stiff, straight hairs in his mustache quivered as he turned slowly, watchfully, towards the others, who were now standing near. Since his funeral should occur on the same day, how could he fight with Vergilius?
"You dare not," the latter added, fiercely; "and before these men I denounce you as a coward—a coward who fears to raise a hand."
His arm was extended, his finger at the face of the Jew, now white with passion. Half a moment passed in which there was no word.