Miriam nodded. “Gallus told me. You see he was very good to me and we became friends. For all that he has done, may Heaven bless him, who, although he seems rough, has so kind a heart.”
“Yes, may Heaven bless all of us, living and dead,” answered Julia. Then she kissed Miriam and left her to her rest.
When Miriam came out of her bedchamber on the following morning, she found Gallus clad in his body armour, now new cleaned, though dinted with many a blow, standing in the court and watching the water which squirted from a leaden pipe to fall into a little basin.
“Greeting, daughter,” he said, looking up. “I trust that you have rested well beneath my roof who have sojourned so long in tents.”
“Very well,” she answered, adding, “If I might ask it, why do you wear your mail here in peaceful Rome?”
“Because I am summoned to have an audience of Cæsar, now within an hour.”
“Is Titus come, then?” she asked hurriedly.
“Nay, nay, not Titus Cæsar, but Vespasian Cæsar, his father, to whom I must make report of all that was passing in Judæa when we left, of the treasure that I brought with me and—of yourself.”
“Oh! Gallus,” said Miriam, “will he take me away from your charge?”
“I know not. I hope not. But who can say? It is as his fancy may move him. But if he listens to me I swear that you shall stay here for ever; be sure of that.”