tanding still, and striking his lance
upon the ground. "Here upon earth have I a firm footing; here let me
stand and live, doing good, and enjoying what is beautiful. I will not
follow you into your heaven. I cannot. I honour your dreams and your
longing for holiness; but I do not share your feelings. You know," he
added, smiling, "that I am an inveterate heathen, like Valeria--my
Valeria! I remember her at the right moment. Your earth-forsaking
dreams make us forget the dearest things upon that earth! Look, we have
reached the city again; the sun sinks rapidly here in the south, and
before nightfall I must take some seeds to the garden of Valerius. A
fine gardener," he laughed, "to forget his flowers. Farewell. I turn to
the right."

"Farewell. Greet Valeria for me. I shall go home and read."

"What are you reading now? still Plato?"

"No, Augustinus. Farewell!"

CHAPTER XXI.

Totila, avoiding the more thickly populated parts of the inner town,
hurried through the suburbs towards the Porta Capuana and the tower of
Isaac, the Jewish gate-keeper.

This tower stood on the right of the gate, and had strong walls and a
massive arched roof. It was divided into different stories, each being
smaller than the one below it. In the top story, close to the
battlements, were two low but roomy chambers, intended for the dwelling
of the gate-keeper.

There lived the old Jew, with Miriam, his beautiful daughter.

In the largest of these two rooms--where, against the walls, hung
a row of heavy keys belonging to the principal and side doors of
this important gate, a curved signal-horn, and the spear of the
gate-keeper--sat Isaac, the aged warder, a tall, bony figure, with the
hooked nose and arched and bushy eyebrows of his nation. He sat upon a
reed mat, with his legs crossed, a long staff laid upon his knees,
listening attentively to the words of a young, ill-favoured-looking
man, evidently an Israelite, whose hard, sober features were expressive
of all the cunning of his race.

"Look here, father Isaac," he was saying, in a thin, unpleasant voice,
"my words are no vain words, and do not come only from the heart, which
is blind, but from the mind, which is sharp to discern. I have brought
letter and document for every word that I speak. Here is my appointment
as architect of all the aqueducts in Italy; fifty gold solidi yearly,
and ten more for every new undertaking. I have just reconstruct