I paid no further attention to what the "horse-dealer" said—I was at least sure of seeing you, or of knowing that you were near me, my child. That will help me to bear the awful grief caused to me by the fate of my little daughter Syomara, who, two days later, was carried into Italy on board the galley of the patrician Trymalcion.
* * * * * * *
My father Guilhern was not granted time to finish his narrative.
Death—oh, what a death!—death overtook him the very day after he traced the above last lines. I preserve them together with the little brass bell that my father got from the "horse-dealer."
The narrative of the sufferings of our race, I, Sylvest, shall continue in obedience to my father Guilhern, the same as he obeyed the behest of his father Joel the brenn of the tribe of Karnak.
Hesus was merciful to you, O, my father.—You died ignorant of the life of your daughter Syomara—
It is left to me to narrate my sister's fate.
THE END.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] A short distance from the town of St. Nazaire, which is still in existence.