They knew their captain's temper, who had served with them through many a fight, and knew also that this crazed Pearl-Maiden whom he saved had twined herself into his heart, as was her fortune with most men of those among whom from time to time fate drove her to seek shelter.
In the tent Miriam found two places set, one for herself and one for the captain Gallus.
"Don't talk to me," he said, "but sit down and eat, for little enough you have swallowed all the time you were sick, and we sail to-morrow evening at the latest, after which, unless you differ from most women, little enough will you swallow on these winter seas until it pleases whatever god we worship to bring us to the coasts of Italy.

Now here are oysters brought by runner from Sidon, and I command that you eat six of them before you say a word." So Miriam ate the oysters obediently, and after the oysters, fish, and after the fish the breast of a woodcock.

But from the autumn lamb, roasted whole, which followed, she was forced to turn.
"Send it out to the soldiers," she suggested, and it was sent as her gift.
"Now, my captive," said Gallus, drawing his stool near to her, "I want you to tell me what you can remember of your story.

Ah! you don't know that for many days past we have dined together and that it had been your fashion to sit with your arm round my old neck and call me your uncle.
Nay, child, you need not blush, for I am more than old enough to be your father, let alone your uncle, and nothing but a father shall I ever be to you." "Why are you so good to me ?" asked Miriam.
"Why?
Oh! for several reasons.

First, you were the friend of a comrade of mine who often talked of you, but who now is dead.