regarding the Phoenicians, who had been false to him, and his cowardly
attitude towards the people who detested and insulted herself.

"But thou art like them!" she cried; "Dost regret the loss of the Arab
girl who danced upon these very pavements? Take her back! Go and live
with her--in her tent! Eat her bread, baked in the ashes! Drink curdled
sheep's-milk! Kiss her dark cheeks--and forget me!"

The tetrarch had already forgotten her presence, it appeared. He paid no
further heed to her anger, but looked intently at a young girl who had
just stepped out upon the balcony of a house not far away. At her side
stood an elderly female slave, who held over the girl's head a kind of
parasol with a handle made of long, slender reeds. In the middle of
the rug spread upon the floor of the balcony stood a large open
travelling-hamper or basket, and girdles, veils, head-dresses, and gold
and silver ornaments were scattered about in confusion. At intervals
the young girl took one object or another in her hands, and held it up
admiringly. She was dressed in the costume of the Roman ladies, with a
flowing tunic and a peplum ornamented with tassels of emeralds; and blue
silken bands confined her hair, which seemed almost too luxuriant, since
from time to time she raised a small hand to push back the heavy masses.
The parasol half hid the maiden from the gaze of Antipas, but now and
then he caught a glimpse of her delicate neck, her large eyes, or a
fleeting smile upon her small mouth. He noted that her figure swayed
about with a singularly elastic grace and elegance. He leaned forward,
his eyes kindled, his breath quickened. All this was not lost upon
Herodias, who watched him narrowly.

"Who is that maiden?" the tetrarch asked at last.