"He dies who says it!"
"It would be better," observed Procopius, "that he should die who did it!"
"Who was it?"
"Oh, sir, the young Goth with the sparkling eyes and shining hair!"
"Totila!" exclaimed Belisarius, "Totila, again!"
"The crew were lying, partly on shore with my outposts, partly on deck, sound asleep. Suddenly, at midnight, all around became as lively as if a hundred ships had risen out of the sea."
"A hundred ships! Ten nutshells!"
"In a moment, long before we could come to their help from the shore, the ships were boarded, the crews taken prisoners, one of the triremes, whose cable could not be cut quickly enough, set on fire, and the others towed off to Neapolis!"
"Your ships have entered the harbour sooner than you expected, O Belisarius," observed Procopius.
But Belisarius had recovered his self-control.