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Weird Tales

where the early Christians had met secretly to escape persecution. Occasionally an object that dated back to the Republic was seen, but the majority were identified in some way with the period of Rome’s downfall when attacked by the tribes from the north.

"Have you any relic of the time of Vespasian or Titus?" asked Clayton, coming at last to the subject that was nearest his heart.

"Titus—Titus," repeated the foreigner as if trying to recall some long-forgotten fact. "Wait, I see."

He vanished through a rear door, but reappeared some minutes later bearing in his arms a miniature restoration of the famous Arch of Titus which had been erected in honor of the Roman conquest of Jerusalem in 70 A. D. This facsimile was two feet at its greatest length, and the other dimensions were proportional.

We were delighted with our find, but feigned indifference. I perceived, though, that it was all Lee could do to keep his hands off it.

"What price do you ask?" I inquired casually.

"Twenty-five dollar," answered the Italian promptly.

"Nothing doing," I replied, turning toward the door, "I'll give you five for it."

"Oh,—but, signor, I have four bambini. I must make a living," he pleaded with characteristic Italian pathos.

"I'll give you ten," said Clayton somewhat harshly.

The sale was eventually consummated at the sixteen-dollar figure, and we bore our trophy away with exultation.

Back in the hotel and safely ensconced in Lee Clayton's rooms we studied the little arch minutely. It was a very perfect reproduction in Pentelic marble like the original, and showed a faithfulness to detail that was nothing short of marvelous. There were the faces in bas-relief of Titus the son of the emperor Vespasian, a number of triumphant Roman warriors, a line of Jews in bondage, and a reproduction of the seven golden candlesticks which had been seized from the Holy of Holies when the temple at Jerusalem was plundered. The chiseling of the faces was unique, each one displaying its characteristic individuality.

"Do you notice," I observed, "that the sculptor has differentiated between the Jews and the Romans? The facial characteristics of each race are quite in evidence."

"Yes—only—hold on a minute, Ebson!" cried Lee in excitement. "He's made one error. Unless I'm very much mistaken he's got a Jew among the victorious Romans!"

"To be sure!" I exclaimed, my excitement equaling his own. "That figure near the middle certainly belongs to the conquered race. But there were Jews who were Roman citizens," I added; "and the chances are they were even more numerous in 70 than in 40 A. D."

"That is very true," Lee answered a little abstractedly, I thought, "but it is very poor taste for the artist to be so realistic in a symbolic creation where comparatively few figures are represented. I think he showed decidedly bad judgment—unless," he added, "the Jew in question was a man of considerable importance."

"That explanation sounds plausible to me," I said. "The torchbearer is undoubtedly a man of fame whose portrait is indispensable to an accurate depiction of the triumphal entry into Rome."


4

Night and a full moon shedding its ethereal light across the eternal city prove a combination irresistible to lovers of beauty and romance.