Nor was this the most wonderful of the things they had to relate.

For they told of humanity on the part of the barbarian conqueror such as had no parallel in any story of warfare known to Greek or Roman; how the Neapolitans being so famine-stricken that they could scarce stand on their legs, King Totila would not at once send plentiful stores into the town, lest the sufferers should die of surfeit, but ministered to their needs even as a friendly physician would have done, giving them at first little food, and more as their strength revived.

To be sure, there were partisans of the Empire in Rome who scoffed at those who narrated, and those who believed, a story so incredible.

On the Palatine, it was at first received with roars of laughter, in which the lady Muscula's shrill voice had its part.

When confirmation had put the thing beyond dispute, Bessas and his supporters made a standing joke of it; if any one fell sick their word was: 'Send for the learned Totila'; and when there was talk of a siege of Rome, they declared that their greatest fear, should the city fall, was of being dieted and physicked by the victor.
Romans there were, however, who heard all this in another spirit.