The joyful intelligence appeared to pour a calm, soothing influence on the suffering man’s spirit, and, in weariness and weakness of mind and body, he fell into a profound slumber.
He seemed to have slept only a few minutes when he was aroused by a hand touching him on the shoulder. He looked up and saw Zeno once more beside him. The daylight had failed, and the little room was nearly dark.
‘How do you feel?’ asked the steward.
‘Better—I have slept.’
‘Three good hours—you are now to depart—make ready.’ Masthlion, with trembling hands, lifted his wallet from the floor.
‘I am ready,’ said he.
They went out, and the steward never spoke until they reached the outer gate.
Conversing with the soldier on guard was an individual well wrapped up in a cloak.
‘Here is your charge,’ said Zeno, addressing him.
The other nodded and ejaculated, ‘Good,’ as he bestowed a sharp glance on the potter.