"That was his name," exclaimed Sirona. "Do you know his cave?"
"How should I?" replied Petrus. "But perhaps Agapitus—"
"The spring where I got the water to cool Polykarp's wound, Paulus calls the partridge's-spring."
"The partridge's-spring," repeated the senator, "I know that." With a deep sigh he took his staff, and called to Dorothea, "Do you prepare the draught, the bandages, torches, and your good litter, while I knock at our neighbor Magadon's door, and ask him to lend us slaves."
"Let me go with you," said Marthana. "No, no; you stay here with your mother."
"And do you think that I can wait here?" asked Dorothea. "I am going with you."
"There is much here for you to do," replied Petrus evasively, "and we must climb the hill quickly."
"I should certainly delay you," sighed the mother, "but take the girl with you; she has a light and lucky hand."
"If you think it best," said the senator, and he left the room.
While the mother and daughter prepared everything for the night-expedition, and came and went, they found time to put many questions and say many affectionate words to Sirona. Marthana, even without interrupting her work, set food and drink for the weary woman on the table by which she had sunk on a seat; but she hardly moistened her lips.