Then over the tortured, famished city down fell the welcome night.

To none was it more welcome than to Miriam, for with it came a copious dew which seemed to condense upon the gilded spike of her marble pillar, whence it trickled so continually, that by licking a little channel in the marble, she was enabled, before it ceased, to allay the worst pangs of her thirst.

This dew gathered upon her hair, bared neck and garments, so that through them also she seemed to take in moisture and renew her life.

After this she slept a while, expecting always to be awakened by some fresh conflict.

But on that night none took place, the fight was for the morrow.