"
Now there was in prison a minister by the name of John the Baptist,
who had made much trouble by his honest preaching. He had denounced
the sins of the king, and brought down upon himself the wrath of the
females in the royal family. At the instigation of her mother, Salome
takes advantage of the king's extravagant promise and demands the head
of John the Baptist on a dinner-plate.
There is a sound of heavy feet, and the clatter of swords outside of
the palace. Swing back the door. The executioners are returning, from
their awful errand. They hand a platter to Salome. What is that on the
platter? A new tankard of wine to rekindle the mirth of the lords? No!
It is redder than wine, and costlier. It is the ghastly, bleeding head
of John the Baptist! Its locks dabbled in gore. Its eyes set in the
death-stare. The distress of the last agony in the features. That
fascinating form, that just now swayed so gracefully in the dance,
bends over the horrid burden without a shudder. She gloats over the
blood; and just as the maid of your household goes, bearing out on a
tray the empty glasses of the evening's entertainment, so she carried
out on a platter the dissevered head of that good man, while all the
banqueters shouted, and thought it a grand joke, that, in such a brief
and easy way, they had freed themselves from such a plain-spoken,
troublesome minister.
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