The young Roman stood looking at the sweet face that lay on the shoulder of him departing. The great hope of Judea had entered his heart—the hope of a just king to rule the nations and point the way to eternal life.
On his return he bought a statue representing a beautiful young boy. He set it up in his chamber, and, kneeling, prayed to it as the one God who forbade killing and theft and every evil practice of men. He prayed for understanding; he prayed, also, that he might see her he loved. But this new God seemed as deaf to his entreaty as had been those of the pagan temples. Groping for light, he turned to the young David. Then first he learned that God, being jealous, hated the image of everything that has the breath of life. His understanding had diminished, for, in this matter, the one God was like the many. He questioned the Jew. "Wonder not," said his friend, "that God hates the symbol of ancient error. It has been as a cloud upon the sun."
Vergilius had taken a palace and filled it with treasures, for, possibly, he had thought, some day she would see all. Now its noble statues were sent away—a kind of sacrifice to the God of the Jews. But there was one he could not part with—a copy of the lovely Venus of Alcamenes which his mother had sent to him. He concealed her in a closet, contenting himself with a furtive glance at her now and then. He set up in his fancy a giant of benevolent face, and humbly sought his favor. Still he had no success.
Lying at table one night with Manius and Ben Joreb, he sought counsel of the latter.
"He that hath his prayer hath prayed wisely," said the priest. "You have much to learn."
"How, and of whom?" said Vergilius.
"There is in Jerusalem a council of learned men. They expound the
Scripture and study all mysteries of the faith."
"And who are they?"
"I would I knew. Being wise, they are unknown."
"Unknown!"