Notwithstanding this partial success, Totila could not hide from himself that his position was very grave and that as soon as a few Grecian ships should appear before the city it would be desperate.
He therefore used a portion of his boats to convoy a number of the unarmed inhabitants of Neapolis to Baiæ and Cumæ, angrily repelling the demand of the rich, that this means of safety should be granted only to those who paid for it; and taking rich and poor, without distinction, into his saving vessels.
In vain had Totila repeatedly and earnestly begged Valeria to fly in one of these ships, under the protection of Julius; she would not yet leave the tomb of her father; she would not part from her lover, whose praise as protector of the city she was only too much delighted to hear proclaimed by all voices.
So she continued to reside in her old home in the city, indulging in her sorrow and in her love.
CHAPTER III.
It was at this time that Miriam experienced the greatest joy and the keenest sorrow that she had ever known.
She could sun herself more frequently than ever in the presence of the man she loved, for the Porta Capuana was an important point of the fortifications, and Totila was obliged to visit it often. He daily held conferences with Earl Uliaris in old Isaac's tower.
At such times Miriam, when she had greeted the guests, and served the simple meal of fruit and wine, used to slip into the narrow little garden which lay close under the walls of the tower.
This place had been, originally, a small court belonging to an ancient Temple of Minerva, the "wall-protectress," to whom altars had been gratefully erected at the principal gates of various towns.
The altar had disappeared centuries ago, but the gigantic olive-tree, which had once shaded the statue dedicated to the goddess, still stretched its boughs aloft, while flowers, cherished by Miriam's loving hand, and which she had often plucked for the bride of the man whom she hopelessly loved, filled the air with perfume.