Second Soldier He slew himself, sire.

Herod For what reason? I had made him captain of my guard!

Second Soldier We do not know, sire. But with his own hand he slew himself.

Herod That seems strange to me. I had thought it was but the Roman philosophers who slew themselves. Is it not true, Tigellinus, that the philosophers at Rome slay themselves?

Tigellinus There be some who slay themselves, sire. They are the Stoics.° The Stoics are people of no cultivation. They are ridiculous people. I myself regard them as being perfectly ridiculous.

Herod I also. It is ridiculous to kill one’s self.

Tigellinus Everybody at Rome laughs at them. The Emperor has written a satire against them. It is recited everywhere.

Herod Ah! he has written a satire against them? Caesar is wonderful. He can do everything.…It is strange that the young Syrian has slain himself. I am sorry he has slain himself. I am very sorry. For he was fair to look upon. He was even very fair. He had very languorous eyes. I remember that I saw that he looked languorously at Salome. Truly, I thought he looked too much at her.

Herodias There are others who look too much at her.

Herod His father was a king. I drave him from his kingdom. And of his mother, who was a queen, you made a slave, Herodias. So he was here as my guest, as it were, and for that reason I made him my captain. I am sorry he is dead. Ho! why have you left the body here? It must be taken to some other place. I will not look at it,—away with it! (They take away the body)° It is cold here. There is a wind blowing. Is there not a wind blowing?

Herodias No; there is no wind.

Herod I tell you there is a wind that blows.…And I hear in the air something that is like the beating of wings, like the beating of vast wings. Do you not hear it?

Herodias I hear nothing.

Herod I hear it no longer. But I heard it. It was the blowing of the wind. It has passed away. But no, I hear it again. Do you not hear it? It is just like a beating of wings.

Herodias I tell you there is nothing. You are ill. Let us go within.

Herod I am not ill. It is your daughter who is sick to death. Never have I seen her so pale.

Herodias I have told you not to look at her.

Herod Pour me forth wine. (Wine is brought) Salome, come drink a little wine with me. I have here a wine that is exquisite. Caesar himself sent it me. Dip into it thy little red lips, that I may drain the cup.

Salome I am not thirsty, Tetrarch.

Herod You hear how she answers me, this daughter of yours?

Herodias She does right. Why are you always gazing at her?

Herod Bring me ripe fruits. (Fruits are brought). Salome, come and eat fruits with me. I love to see in a fruit the mark of thy little teeth. Bite but a little of this fruit, that I may eat what is left.