scratches. You were taken prisoner by the Jews--it is enough. You have
your prayer, your case shall go to Caesar. If the tale you tell is true
you would produce that woman who is said to have rescued you from the
Jews and whom you purchased as a slave. When you do this we will take
her evidence. Till then to your prison with you. Guards, remove the man
Marcus, called the Fortunate, once a Prefect of Horse in the army of
Judaea."

CHAPTER XXVII

THE BISHOP CYRIL

On the morning following the day of the Triumph Julia, the wife of
Gallus, was seated in her bed-chamber looking out at the yellow waters
of the Tiber that ran almost beneath its window. She had risen at dawn
and attended to the affairs of her household, and now retired to rest
and pray. Mingled with the Roman crowd on the yesterday she had seen
Miriam, whom she loved, marching wearily through the streets of Rome.
Then, able to bear no more, she went home, leaving Gallus to follow the
last acts of the drama. About nine o'clock that night he joined her and
told her the story of the sale of Miriam for a vast sum of money, since,
standing in the shadow beyond the light of the torches, he had been a
witness of the scene at the slave-market. Domitian had been outbid, and
their Pearl-Maiden was knocked down to an old woman with a basket on
her back who looked like a witch, after which she vanished with her
purchaser. That was all he knew for certain. Julia thought it little
enough, and reproached her husband for his stupidity in not learning
more. Still, although she seemed to be vexed, at heart she rejoiced.
Into whoever's hand the maid had fallen, for a while at least she had
escaped the vile Domitian.

Now, as she sat and prayed, Gallus being abroad to gather more tidings
if he could, she heard the courtyard door open, but took no notice
of it, thinking that it was but the servant who returned from market.
Presently, however, as she knelt, a shadow fell upon her and Julia
looked up to see Miriam, none other than Miriam, and with her a
dark-skinned, aged woman, whom she did not know.

"How come you here?" she gasped.

"Oh! mother," answered the girl in a low and thrilling voice, "mother,
by the mercy of God and by the help of this Nehushta, of whom I have
often told you, and--of another, I am escaped from Domitian, and return
to you free and unharmed."

"Tell me that story," said Julia, "for I do not understand. The thing
sounds incredible."

So Miri