The village was nowhere in sight; the plain had been left behind; any further view was shut off by Aquila's horse, and the two camels whose bridles were in the hands of Hiram.

Beside the stricken girl knelt Momus and Aquila; standing at her feet was a new-comer, on whom her wandering and half-conscious gaze rested.
He was an old man, clad in a short tunic, ragged of hem and girt about him with a rope.

Barefoot, bareheaded and provided only with a staff and a small wallet, he was to outward appearances little more than one of the legion of mendicants that infested the poverty-stricken land of Judea.

But his large eyes, under the tangle of wind-blown white hair and white shelving brows, were infinitely intelligent and refined.
Now, they beamed with pity and concern on the bereaved girl.
But she forgot him the next instant, for returning consciousness brought back like a blow the memory of the death of her father.
From time to time she caught snatches of conversation between the old wayfarer and Aquila.

They were spoken in low tones and only from time to time did they reach her.
"He was Costobarus, principal merchant of this coast," she heard Aquila explain shortly.
"I shall go on to Ascalon; I do not fear," the old man said next.