A tall man, dressed like a merchant of Egypt, went up to Miriam and bent over her.
"Silence!" said the attendant.

"I am ordered to suffer none to speak to the slave who is called Pearl-Maiden.

Move on, sir, move on." The man lifted his head, and although in that gloom she could not see his face, Nehushta knew its shape.

Still she was not sure, till presently he moved his right hand so that it came between her and the flame of one of the torches, and she perceived that the top joint of the first finger was missing.
"Caleb," she thought to herself, "Caleb, escaped and in Rome! So Domitian has another rival." Then she went back to the door-keeper and asked him the name of the man.
"A merchant of Alexandria named Demetrius," he said.
Nehushta returned to her place.

In front of her two men, agents who bought slaves and other things for wealthy clients, were talking.
"More fit for a sale of dogs," said one, "after sunset when everybody is tired out, than for that of one of the fairest women who ever stood upon the block." "Pshaw," answered the other, "the whole thing is a farce.