"Well done! He was brave after all." Then the body was carried away and the procession moved forward.

But Marcus, who watched, hid his face in his hands, and Nehushta, lifting hers, uttered a prayer for the passing soul of the victim.
Now the prisoners began to go past, marching eight by eight, hundreds upon hundreds of them, and once more the mob shouted and rejoiced over these unfortunates, whose crime was that they had fought for their country to the end.

The last files passed, then at a little distance from them, tramping forward wearily, appeared the slight figure of a girl dressed in a robe of white silk blazoned at its breast with gold.
Her bowed head, from which the curling tresses fell almost to her waist, was bared to the fierce rays of the sun, and on her naked bosom lay a necklace of great pearls.
"Pearl-Maiden, Pearl-Maiden!" shouted the crowd.
"Look!" said Nehushta, gripping the shoulder of Marcus with her hand.
He looked, and after long years once more beheld Miriam, for though he had heard her voice in the Old Tower at Jerusalem, then her face was hidden from him by the darkness.

There was the maid from whom he had parted in the desert village by Jordan, the same, and yet changed.
Then she had been a lovely girl, now she was a woman on whom sorrow and suffering had left their stamp.

The features were finer, the deep, patient eyes were frightened and reproachful; her beauty was such as we see in dreams, not altogether that of earth.
"Oh! my darling, my darling," murmured Nehushta, stretching out her arms towards her.