standing under an arch, talking to an Essene, who wore a long white robe
and flowing locks. Jonathas regretted that he had raised his voice in
defence of the tetrarch.

One thought now consoled Herod-Antipas. He was no longer personally
responsible for the fate of Iaokanann. The Romans had assumed that
charge. What a relief! He had noticed Phanuel pacing slowly through
the court, and calling him to his side, he pointed put the guards
established by Vitellius, saying:

"They are stronger than I! I cannot now set the prisoner free! It is not
my fault if he remains in his dungeon."

The courtyard was empty. The slaves were sleeping. The day was drawing
to a close, and the sunset spread a deep rosy glow over the horizon,
against which the smallest objects stood out like silhouettes. Antipas
was able to distinguish the excavations of the salt-mines at the farther
end of the Dead Sea, but the tents of the Arabs were no longer visible.
As the moon rose, the effect of the day's excitement passed away, and a
feeling of peace entered his heart.

Phanuel, also wearied by the recent agitating scenes, remained beside
the tetrarch. He sat in silence for some time, his chin resting on his
breast. At last he spoke in confidence to Antipas, and revealed what he
had wished to say.

From the beginning of the month, he said, he had been studying the
heavens every morning before daybreak, when the constellation of Perseus
was at the zenith; Agalah was scarcely visible; Algol was even less
bright; Mira-Cetus had disappeared entirely; from all of which he