ter than many shields.
The bit of money is buried; they will not carry away the plaster
statues, they will only cut off their noses with great zeal and an
incomprehensible liking for the business: it does not matter, one can
stick them on again," But he was anxious about Fulvius, about
Felicitas.

He looked about for the fugitive, but could not see him either lying
dead, or brought in a prisoner; he seemed to be swallowed up by the
earth: the rider who had pursued him had turned his horse in another
direction, and was pursuing other flying Romans. Crispus hoped that the
young husband had escaped. He (Crispus) was quite unable to help
Felicitas, for his conqueror held him firmly by the shoulder and pushed
him towards the bridge.

"Forward! Thou canst not imagine, Roman, how Alemannian thirst burns.
And near the Basilica, sayest thou? That is right! There we shall find,
besides, gold and silver cups for the liquor."

And in front of the whole noisy, laughing, shouting swarm, the fat
Crispus, an involuntary pot-companion, stumped along as fast as his
short legs could carry him, towards the gate through which he had
shortly before marched, a proud helmeted legionary. He had left the
casserole where it fell, but he was still reminded of it by the
smarting of his nose.

In the meantime Fulvius had actually disappeared. He had not thrown
away shield and spear, like his corpulent companion; he was young,
strong, he had no fear, and he thought of the promise which he had
given at his release to the gallant Severus. He had now reached the
river and stood firmly on the marshy bank. He heard the hoof-strokes of
the galloping horse coming nearer and nearer, and he resolutely turned,
looked at the enemy fiercely, raised his spear, took good aim and threw
it with all the strength of his arm against the face of the German.

"Well aimed!" cried he, as he dropped the reins, and with his left hand
caught the whizzing spear.

The shield of Fulvius would now have availed him little, for the
galloping horseman aimed at the same time with both spears, his own and
the one he had caught, at the Roman's head and abdomen. But before the
deadly lances reached him, Fulvius had suddenly disappeared; in
stepping backwards from the snorting horse, that must the next instant
have prostrated him, he lost his balance, slipped on the smooth grass,
and fell backwards into the stream, the waters of which, dashing up,
closed over him. The Alemannian