The bed on which he lay was made of lime-boughs, simply woven together, and covered with wolves' skins. A gigantic form was leaning against the foot of the bed with his arms folded, and as the young man awoke, he turned round. It was the Decurio.
"Where am I?" asked the young man, vaguely endeavoring to recall the events of the past night.
"In my house," replied Decurio.
"And who are you?"
"I am Numa, Decurio of the Roumin[6] Legion, your foe in battle, but now your host and protector."
"And why did you save me from your men?" asked the young man, after a short silence.
"Because the strife was unequal—a hundred against one."
"But had it not been for you, I could have freed myself from them."
"Without me you had been lost. Ten paces from where I stopped your horse, you would inevitably have been dashed to pieces by huge stones which they were preparing to throw down upon you from the rock."
"And you did not desire my death?"