•In the darkness, a hand
on his arm awakened Caliban
from his deep
slumber.
•“Good evening, Sophia’s
slave,” said a voice too loud in his ear. “Did you save me
some food?”
•Sleep
disconcerted Caliban for a moment, and he almost spoke. He caught
himself and bit off the words with a grunt. He nodded and stood
up. Caliban took the pastries from the shelf behind the hearth
and handed them to Socrates. Almost no light illuminated the
room. Caliban heard the large man sit down on the floor, and
Caliban sat back where he had been sleeping.