The Pharisees, leaning against the pavilion, were now beside themselves with demoniac fury.  They broke plates and dashed them upon the floor.  The attendants had served them with a ragout composed of the flesh of the wild ass, an unclean animal, and their anger knew no bounds.  Aulus rallied them jeeringly apropos of the ass’s head, which he declared they honoured.  He flung other sarcasms at them, regarding their antipathy to the flesh of swine, intimating that no doubt their hatred arose from the fact that that beast had killed their beloved Bacchus, and saying it was to be feared they were too fond of wine, since a golden vine had been discovered in the Temple.

The priests did not understand his sneers, and Phineas, of Galilean origin, refused to translate them.  Aulus suddenly became angry, the more so because the little Asiatic, frightened at the tumult, had disappeared.  The feast no longer pleased the noble glutton; the dishes were vulgar, and not sufficiently disguised with delicate flavourings.  After a time his displeasure abated, as he caught sight of a dish of Syrian lambs’ tails, dressed with spices, a favourite dainty.

To Vitellius the character of the Jews seemed frightful.  Their God was like Moloch, several altars to whom he had passed upon his route; and he recalled the stories he had heard of the mysterious Jew who fattened small children and offered them as a sacrifice.  His Latin nature was filled with disgust at their intolerance, their iconoclastic rage, their brutal, stumbling bearing.  The proconsul wished to depart, but Aulus refused to accompany him.

The exaltation of the people increased.  They abandoned themselves to dreams of independence.  They recalled the glory of Israel, and a Syrian spoke of all the great conquerors they had vanquished,—­Antigone, Crassus, Varus.

“Miserable creatures!” cried the enraged proconsul, who had overheard the Syrian’s words.

In the midst of the uproar Antipas remembered the medallion of the emperor that Herodias had given to him; he drew it forth and looked at it a moment, trembling, then held it up with its face turned towards the throng.

At the same moment, the panels of the gold-railed balcony were folded back, and, accompanied by slaves bearing wax tapers, Herodias appeared, her coiffure crowned with an Assyrian mitre, which was held in place by a band passing under the chin.  Her dark hair fell in ringlets over a scarlet peplum with slashed sleeves.  On either side of the door through which one stepped into the gallery, stood a huge stone monster, like those of Atrides; and as Herodias appeared between them, she looked like Cybele supported by her lions.  In her hands she carried a patera, a shallow vessel of silver used by the Romans in pouring libations; and, advancing to the front of the balcony and pausing just above the tetrarch’s chair, she cried: 

“Long live Caesar!”

This homage was repeated by Vitellius, Antipas, and the priests.