"Don't try to remember them," he said cheerfully. "There is so much in
life that it is better to forget. Yes, this is Tyre, sure enough. You
could not recognise it last night because it was too dark, and this
garden, I am told, did belong to Benoni. Who it belongs to now I do not
know. To you, I suppose, and through you to Caesar."
Now while he spoke thus somewhat at random, for he was watching her
all the while, Miriam kept her eyes fixed upon his face, as though she
searched there for something which she could but half recall. Suddenly
an inspiration entered into them and she said:
"Now I have it! You are the Roman captain, Gallus, who brought me the
letter from----" and she paused, thrusting her hand into the bosom of
her robe, then went on with something like a sob: "Oh! it is gone. How
did it go? Let me think."
"Don't think," said Gallus; "there are so many things in the world which
it is better not to think about. Yes, as it happens, I am that man,
and some years ago I did bring you the letter from Marcus, called The
Fortunate. Also, as it chanced, I never forgot your sweet face and knew
it again at a time when it was well that you should find a friend. No,
we won't talk about it now. Look, the old slave calls you.
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