Antiochus, on his part, had no apprehensions.  When some days had passed and the candelabrum was not returned, he sent to ask for it.  The governor begged the messenger to come again the next day.  It seemed a strange request; still the man came again and was again unsuccessful.  The King himself then waited on the governor and begged him to return it.  Verres hinted, or rather said plainly, that he should very much like it as a present.  “This is impossible,” replied the prince, “the honor due to Jupiter and public opinion forbid it.  All the world knows that the offering is to be made, and I cannot go back from my word.”  Verres perceived that soft words would be useless, and took at once another line.  The King, he said, must leave Sicily before nightfall.  The public safety demanded it.  He had heard of a piratical expedition which was on its way from Syria to the province, and that his departure was necessary.  Antiochus had no choice but to obey; but before he went he publicly protested in the market-place of Syracuse against the wrong that had been done.  His other valuables, the gold and the jewels, he did not so much regret; but it was monstrous that he should be robbed of the gift that he destined for the altar of the tutelary god of Rome.

The Sicilian cities were not better able to protect their possessions than were private individuals.  Segesta was a town that had early ranged itself on the side of the Romans, with whom its people had a legendary relationship. (The story was that Aeneas on his way to Italy had left there some of his followers, who were unwilling any longer to endure the hardships of the journey.) In early days it had been destroyed by the Carthaginians, who had carried off all its most valuable possessions, the most precious being a statue of Diana, a work of great beauty and invested with a peculiar sacredness.  When Carthage fell, Scipio its conqueror restored the spoils which had been carried off from the cities of Sicily.  Among other things Agrigentum had recovered its famous bull of brass, in which the tyrant Phalaris had burned, it was said, his victims.  Segesta was no less fortunate than its neighbors, and got back its Diana.  It was set on a pedestal on which was inscribed the name of Scipio, and became one of the most notable sights of the island.  It was of a colossal size, but the sculptor had contrived to preserve the semblance of maidenly grace and modesty.  Verres saw and coveted it.  He demanded it of the authorities of the town and was met with a refusal.  It was easy for the governor to make them suffer for their obstinacy.  All their imposts were doubled and more than doubled.  Heavy requisitions for men and money and corn were made upon them.  A still more hateful burden, that of attending the court and progresses of the governor was imposed on their principal citizens.  This was a contest which they could not hope to wage with success.  Segesta resolved that the statue should be given up.  It was accordingly carried away from the town, all the women of the town, married and unmarried, following it on its journey, showering perfumes and flowers upon it, and burning incense before it, till it had passed beyond the borders of their territory.