Hot with anger and flushed with wine, he ran, cursing, and kicked the shapely form that lay fainting at the foot of its pedestal.

“Fool!” he shouted.  “Know you not that I only am your king?  You shall be punished; you shall enter the cage of the leopard.”

He went no further.  Vergilius had rushed upon him and flung him to the floor.  Antipater rose quickly and approached the young Roman, a devil in his eyes.  Vergilius had a look of wonder and self-reproach.

“What have I done?” said he, facing the Jew.  “Son of Herod, forgive me.  She is your slave, and I—­I am no longer master of myself.  I doubt not some strange god is working in me, for I seem to be weak-hearted and cannot bear to see you kick her.”

The declaration was greeted with loud laughter.  Antipater stood muttering as he shook the skirt of his toga.

“’Tis odd, my goodfellows,” said Vergilius, “but the other day I saw a man scourging his lady’s-maid.  Mother of the gods!  I felt as if the blows were falling on my own back, and out went my hand upon his arm and I begged him—­I begged him to spare the girl.”

All laughed again.

“You should have a doll and long hair,” said Antipater, in a tone of contempt.

The proud son of Varro stood waiting as the others laughed, his brows and chin lifting a bit with anger.  When silence came he spoke slowly, looking from face to face: 

“If any here dare to question my courage, within a moment it shall be proved upon him.”

None spoke or moved for a breath.  Antipater answered, presently: 

“I doubt not your courage, noble Vergilius, but if you will have it tried I can show you a better way, and one that will spare your friends.  Come, all of you.”

As they were rising, the young Gracus remarked:  “By Apollo!  I have not taken my emetic.”

“To forget that is to know sorrow,” said another.

Slaves brought their outer robes and they followed the young prince.  He led them, between vines and fruit trees and beds of martagon and mirasolus, to the lion-house in his garden.  Vergilius now understood the test of courage to be put upon him.  The great beasts were asleep in their cages, and Antipater prodded them with a lance.  A thunder in their throats seemed to fill the air and shake the flames in the lampadaria.  With sword and lance Antipater entered the arena, a space barred high, about thirty feet square, upon which all the cages opened.

“The tiger!” he commanded.

Keepers lifted a metal gate, and the huge cat leaped away from their lances, backed snarling to the end of his cage, and with a slow, creeping movement put his head and fore-paws into the arena; then a swift step or two, a lowering of the great head, and side-long he stood, with eyes aglow and fangs uncovered, a low mutter in his mouth, like the roar of a mighty harp-string.  Some fifteen feet away stood the son of Herod, his lance poised.