They ate and drank, and grew first hilarious and then heavy. The man in charge of the dungeon was invited to join the party, and several people from the village were also bidden to come in as they stood round the open door, and the soldiers’ carousal ended by their stretching themselves on the floor, and sleeping heavily, from the effects of over-eating, over-drinking, and fatigue; for the forced marches through the forest, and the fierce contest with the Christians, had tried even their herculean strength to the uttermost. So far, Claudius’s scheme had answered; he feigned to sleep heavily, and when all was quiet, about nine o’clock, he crept softly past the sleepers, and went out into the darkness. As he went down the steep incline from the courthouse, he stumbled against some dark object, and a piteous voice exclaimed-- “For the love of Heaven, have pity on me!” “Who are you?” Claudius asked. “A poor wandering Jew, whose only daughter has fallen down, worn out with illness and fatigue, and has passed hence, in the darkness, to Abraham’s bosom.” “You dog!” Claudius exclaimed, “how came you hither?” “I came over to Britain seeking for pearls, with which your rivers abound, but I have found none, but lost my own pearl. She is dead! she is dead!” he moaned. “I have carried her thus far, and none in this heathen village would give me shelter. I know by the heavy weight with which she lies in my arms that she is dead.” Claudius strode back to the hall, and taking a burning ember from the mass upon the hearth, and returning, threw the light of a torch he had kindled upon the girl’s face. Yes, she was dead--must have been dead for hours. Her father, gazing on her, burst into a low wail, and rocking himself to and fro, cried for pity and mercy from Jehovah. A sudden thought flashed upon Claudius. “Hearken, old man, wretched dog as you are, if you will do me a service I will pay you in gold pieces, but it must be done at once. Leave your daughter’s body to me for burial, and betake yourself to a thicket just beyond the village. Stay there till I come to you, and I will ensure you safe departure. If you refuse, by the gods, I will drag you before the Governor to-morrow, and see you torn limb from limb.” “Oh! good sir! Oh! kind sir! have pity. My daughter! my daughter!” “She is dead,” Claudius replied, as throwing the light of the torch on the pale, still face, wan and attenuated by sickness, and set in its frame of raven hair it looked white as snow. “Poor creature!” Claudius said, “she is young to die, but we all die, some old, some young; it is the fate of all, and the gods take the best first. Now, Jew, there must be no delay. Shall I carry away your daughter, and in return will you, for gold, which I will bring you, do my behest? It must be now, or it will be too late.”