With that returning light, as it happened, the light returned also into
Miriam's darkened mind. She became aware that this scene was familiar;
she recognised the outlines of the proud and ancient island town. More,
she remembered that garden; yes, there assuredly was the palm-tree
beneath which she had often sat, and there the rock, under whose shadow
grew white lilies, where she had rested with Nehushta when the Roman
captain brought her the letter and the gifts from Marcus. Instinctively
Miriam put her hand to her neck. About it still hung the collar of
pearls, and on the pearls the ring which the slave-woman had found in
her hair and tied there for safety. She took off the ring and placed it
back upon her finger. Then she walked to the rock, sat down and tried
to think. But for this, as yet her mind was not strong enough, for there
rose up in it vision after vision of blood and fire, which crushed and
overwhelmed her. All that went before the siege was clear, the rest one
red confusion.

While she sat thus the Roman captain hobbled from his pavilion, resting
on a crutch, for his leg was still lame and shrivelled. First he went to
Miriam's tent to inquire after her of the old woman, as was his custom
at the daybreak, then, learning that she had gone out of it, looked
round for her. Presently he perceived her sitting in the shade of the
rock gazing at the sea, and followed to join her.

"Good morning to you, daughter," he said. "How have you slept after your
long journey?" and paused, expecting to be answered with some babbling,
gentle nonsense such as flowed from Miriam's lips in her illness. But
instead of this she rose and stood before him looking confused. Then she
replied:

"Sir, I thank you, I have slept well; but tell me, is not yonder town
Tyre, and is not this the garden of my grandfather, Benoni, where I used
to wander? Nay, how can it be? So long has passed since I walked in
this garden, and so many things have happened--terrible, terrible things
which I cannot remember," and she hid her eyes in her hand and moaned.

"Don't try to remember them," he said cheerfully. "There is so much in
life that it is better to forget. Yes, this is Tyre, sure enough. You
could not recognise it last night because it was too dark, and this
garden, I am told, did belong to Benoni. Who it belongs to now I do not
know. To you, I suppose, and through you to Caesar."

Now while he spoke thus somewhat at random, for he was watc