'Not yet, my lord. A little while ago his servant told me that he was still sleeping.'
'Good; he will recover from his fatigue. But pray inquire whether he is now awake, for I would speak with him as soon as may be.'
The lady was absent for a minute or two, then brought word that the traveller had just awoke.
'I will go to his bedside,' said Venantius.
He was led to an upper chamber, a small, bare, tiled-floored room, lighted by a foot-square window, on which the shutter was half closed against the rays of the sun. Some aromatic odour hung in the air.
'Do you feel able to talk?' asked the captain as he entered.
'I am quite restored,' was the reply of a man sitting up in the bed. 'The fever has passed.'
'So much for the wisdom of physicians!' exclaimed Venantius with a laugh. 'That owl-eyed Aesernian who swears by Aesculapius that he has studied at Constantinople, Antioch, and I know not where else, whispered to me that you would never behold to-day's sunset. I whispered to him that he was an ass, and that if he uttered the word plague to any one in the house, I would cut his ears off. Nevertheless, I had you put into this out-of-the-way room, that you might not be disturbed by noises. Who'—he sniffed—'has been burning perfumes?'
'My good fellow Felix. Though travel-worn and wounded, he has sat by me all the time, and would only go to bed when I woke up with a cool forehead.'
'A good fellow, indeed. His face spells honesty. I can't say so much for that of a man I have just been talking with—a messenger of your friend Marcian.'