multitude roared his name, proclaiming it divine. His nostrils spread to
inhale this incense of adoration, his eyes flashed and slowly he waved
his arms, as though in benediction of his worshippers. Perchance there
rose before his mind a vision of the wondrous event whereby he, the
scorned and penniless outcast, had been lifted to this giddy pinnacle
of power. Perchance for a moment he believed that he was indeed divine,
that nothing less than the blood and right of godhead could thus have
exalted him. At least he stood there, denying naught, while the people
adored him as Jehovah is adored of the Jews and Christ is adored of the
Christians.

Then of a sudden smote the Angel of the Lord. Of a sudden intolerable
pain seized upon his vitals, and Herod remembered that he was but mortal
flesh, and knew that death was near.

"Alas!" he cried, "I am no god, but a man, and even now the common fate
of man is on me."

As he spoke a great white owl slid from the roof of the canopy above him
and vanished through the unroofed centre of the cavea.

"Look! look! my people!" he cried again, "the spirit that brought me
good fortune leaves me now, and I die, my people, I die!" Then, sinking
upon his throne, he who a moment gone had received the worship of a god,
writhed there in agony and wept. Yes, Herod wept.

Attendants ran to him and lifted him in their arms.

"Take me hence to die," he moaned. Now a herald cried: