his composure, and could not refrain from occasionally connecting a
practical application with his report, now, mastered by the power of the
remembrance, he uttered what he wished to tell his master in an oppressed
tone, while bright drops of perspiration bedewed the speaker's brow.

A large merchant ship had approached them, and three men came on board
the Hydra--old Satabus, his son Labaja, and a gray-haired, bearded
seafarer of tall stature and dignified bearing, Schalit, Ledscha's
father.

The meeting between the Biamite ship-owner and his child, after so long a
separation, was a singular one; for the young wife held out her hand to
her father timidly, with downcast eyes, and he refused to take it.
Directly after, however, as if constrained by an irresistible impulse,
he drew his unruly daughter toward him and kissed her brow and cheeks.

Roast meat and the best wine had been served in the large ship's cabin;
but though Myrtilus and Bias had been locked up as if a bloody battle was
expected, the loud, angry uproar of men's deep voices reached them, and
Ledscha's shrill tones shrieking in passionate wrath blended in the
strife. Furniture must have been upset and dishes broken, yet the giants
who were disputing here did not come to blows.

At last the savage turmoil subsided.

When Bias and his master were again released, Ledscha was standing, in
the dusk of evening, at the foot of the mainmast, pressing her brow
against the wood as if she needed some support to save herself from
falling.