And he roughly snatched the basket from the Moor and gave it to the slave.
"Here is the basket. I hope Narses will enjoy the fish."
The slave, who thought he had refused the gift distinctly enough, took the basket with a shake of his head.
"What can it all mean?" he asked in Latin as he went away.
"It means," answered Alboin, who followed him, "that the best fish is not hidden in the basket, but somewhere else."
As soon as Syphax entered the tent, he eagerly felt in his waterproof belt of crocodile-skin for a roll of papyrus, which he handed to the Prefect.
"You bleed, Syphax!"
"Only slightly. The Longobardians pretended, when they saw me swimming in the water, to take me for a dolphin, and shot their arrows at me."
"Nurse yourself--a solidus for every drop of your blood!--the letter is worth blood and gold, as it seems. Nurse yourself! and bid the Isaurians let no one enter."
And now, alone in his tent, the Prefect began to read.