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. Domitian is in a hurry, that's all, so the auction must be held to-night."
"He means to buy her?"
"Of course. I am told that his factor, Saturius, has orders to go up to a thousand sestertia if need be," and he nodded towards a quiet man dressed in a robe of some rich, dark stuff, who stood in a corner of the place watching the company.
"A thousand sestertia! For one slave girl! Ye gods! a thousand sestertia!"
"The necklace goes with her, that is worth something, and there is property at Tyre."
"Property in Tyre," said the other, "property in the moon. Come on, let us look at something a little less expensive. As I wish to keep my head on my shoulders, I am not going to bid against the prince in any case."
"No, nor anyone else either. I expect he will get his fancy pretty cheap after all."
Then the two men moved away, and a minute afterwards Nehushta found that it was her turn to approach Miriam.
"Here comes a curious sort of buyer," said one of the attendants.
"Don't judge the taste of the fruit by the look of the rind, young man," answered Nehushta, and at the sound of that voice for the first time Pearl-Maiden lifted her head, then dropped it quickly.
"She is well enough," Nehushta said aloud, "but there used to be prettier women when I was young; in fact, though dark, I was myself," a statement at which those within hearing, noting her gaunt and aged form bent beneath the heavy basket, tittered aloud. "Come, lift up your head, my dear," she went on, trying to entice the captive to consent by encouraging waves of her hand.