What can I do for
thee? Thou art wonderful to look at."

"If the God of my fathers has touched thy heart," said Miriam in her
pathetic voice, "help me to hide the body in the garden there--he has
long since dug his own grave near Sarah, my mother--with his face to
the east."

"It shall be done," said the Bajuvar, and obeyed her.

She carried the head, he the knees of the corpse. A few steps took them
into the little garden; there, under a weeping-willow, lay a stone; the
man pushed it away, and they laid the corpse in the grave, with its
face to the east.

Miriam looked into the grave without a word, without a tear; she felt
so forsaken, so lonely. The Bajuvar softly pushed the stone back into
its place, filled with compassion.

"Come!" he said.

"Whither?" asked Miriam in a low voice.

"Well, whither wilt thou go?"

"I do not know. I thank thee," she said, and took an amulet from her
neck and gave it to him. It was made of gold, a coin from the Jordan,
from the Temple.

"No!" said the man, and shook his head.

He took her hand, and pressed it to his eyes.

"So," he said, "that will do me good all my life long. Now I must go;
we must catch the Earl Totila. Farewell."

That name went to Miriam's heart. She cast one more look at the quiet
grave, and then slipped quickly out of the garden.

She wished to go through the gate on to the highroad, but the
portcullis was down, and at the gate stood men with Gothic helmets and
shields. She looked about her in surprise.

"Is all ready, Chanaranzes?" said a voice.

"All; he is as good as taken!"

"Hark! before the walls! horses trampling! It is they! Back, woman!"

Outside, a few horsemen were seen trotting towards the gate.

"Open, open the gate!" cried Totila from a distance.

Thorismuth rode up to him.

"I don't know how it is, I have no confidence," he cried. "The road
was so quiet, and so was the enemy's camp out there; scarcely a few
watch-fires were burning."

From the ramparts came a flourish of the Gothic horn.

"How horribly the fellow blows!" cried Thorismuth angrily.

"It must be an Italian," said Totila.

"Give the watch-word," was called from the walls in Latin.

"Neapolis!" cried Totila. "Dost thou hear? Uliaris has been obliged to
arm the citizens. Open the gate! I bring good news," he called to the
men above. "Four hundred Goths follow at my heels, and Italy has a new
king."

"Which is he!" asked some one inside, in a low voice.