ank you very much," said the combatants, again unanimous and
highly satisfied.

"But there is no more wine," complained the Alemannian.

"Or I should have drunk it long ago," sighed the Bajuvaren.

"Heigh, Crispe, son of Mars and Bellona," cried Vestralp, "where is
there wine--more wine?"

Crispus came panting. "Oh, sir, it is incredible! But they have
actually drunk it all! The prudent Jaffa," whispered he, "has still a
very small skin of the very best; but that is for thee alone, because
thou hast saved my life." He continued aloud: "There is a large stone
jug full of water; if we mix that with the last dregs in the wine-skins
there will still be abundance of drink."

But Vestralp raised his spear-shaft and shattered the great jug so that
the water ran in a stream. "Let the man be cut off from the race of the
Alemanni," cried he, "who at any time mixes water with his wine! That
special wine," continued he quietly to Crispus, "the poor Jew himself
shall keep. Let him drink it himself, after all his fright."

Then there sounded from outside the call of the great ox-horn. And
immediately afterwards the door of the church was thrown open. A
gigantic Bajuvaren stood on the threshold, and cried with a loud voice:
"You are sitting there and drinking in blissful indolence, as if all
was over; and yet the battle is again raging in the streets. The slaves
of the Romans! They are burning and destroying, while the town is
_ours_! Protect your Juvavum, men of Bajuhemum! So commands Garibrand,
the Duke."

In an instant all the Germans had seized their arms, and with the loud
cry, "Defend the Juvavum of the Bajuvaren!" they rushed out of the
church.

When the last footstep had long died away, the marble slab was
carefully raised; the Tribune climbed out. The man so brave, so fond of
war, had suffered the bitterest torments of humiliation during this
long time. Was he not a Roman, and did he not know his duty? It stung
his honour as a soldier that he, blindly following his own passions,
pursuing only his _own_ object, had made the victory so easy for the
barbarians. His looks were sullen; he bit his lips. "My cavalry! the
Capitol! Juvavum! vengeance on the priest! victory! all is lost--except
Felicitas! I will fetch her; and away, away with her over the
Alps!--Where may my Pluto be?"

Leo crept through the priest's house into the narrow street, and
carefully sought the shadow of the houses. It was beginning to get
dar