"
"I ask no vengeance," she answered. "Nay, cruel as you are I grieve that
you, a great captain, should have come to this."
"I grieve also, maiden. Your grandsire, old Benoni, chose the better
part."
Then the soldiers separated them and they spoke no more.
An hour passed and the procession began its march along the Triumphal
Way. Of it Miriam could see little. All she knew was that in front there
were ranks of fettered prisoners, while behind men carried upon
trays and tables the golden vessels of the Temple, the seven-branched
candlestick and the ancient sacred book of the Jewish law. They were
followed by other men, who bore aloft images of victory in ivory and
gold. Then, although these did not join them till they reached the Porta
Triumphalis, or the Gate of Pomp, attended, each of them, by lictors
having their fasces wreathed with laurel, came the Caesars. First went
Vespasian Caesar, the father. He rode in a splendid golden chariot, to
which were harnessed four white horses led by Libyan soldiers. Behind
him stood a slave clad in a dull robe, set there to avert the influence
of the evil eye and of the envious gods, who held a crown above the head
of the Imperator, and now and again whispered in his ear the ominous
words, _Respice post te, hominem memento te_ ("Look back at me and
remember thy mortality.
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