Secondly, you were a sick and helpless thing whom I chanced to rescue in the great slaughter, and who ever since has been my companion; and thirdly--yes, I will say it, though I do not love to talk of that matter, I had a daughter, who died, and who, had she lived, would have been of about your age.

Your eyes remind me of hers--there, is that not enough?
"But now for the story.Stay.I will tell you what I know of it.

Marcus, he whom they called The Fortunate, but whose fortune has deserted him, was in love with you--like the rest of us.

Often he talked to me of you in Rome, where we were friends after a fashion, though he was set far above me, and by me sent to you that letter which I delivered here in this garden, and the trinket that you wear about your neck, and if I remember right, with it a ring--yes, it is upon your finger.

Well, I took note of you at the time and went my way to the war, and when I chanced to find you lately upon the top of the Gate Nicanor, although you were more like a half-burnt cinder than a fair maiden, I knew you again and carried you off to Caesar, who named you his slave and bade me take charge of you and deliver you to him in Rome.