Vergilius, with the man who clung to him, stood apart near the middle of the chamber.
Suddenly he heard an impatient, wrathful shout close beside him: "Lights here, ye laggards!" Vergilius jumped as if he had felt the prick of steel.

He turned, looking at the man who held his arm.

A squad with torches came swiftly, forming about them.

The powerful hands let go; a cloak and hood fell upon the floor.
"The king!" said Vergilius, bowing low.
"And you," said Herod, breathing heavily and leaning on the shoulder of the young man, "you are the only friend of the king.

To save you from the fate of those dogs yonder, I would not let you go." This unloved and terrible man, still leaning upon the shoulder of Vergilius, wept feebly.