"

"_Thou_ wear them, then!"

"The dream did not concern me, but thee, my lord. I saw thee
celebrating a marriage!"

"Oh, that thou seest often! This time with Felicitas?"

"No, with Persephone, the queen of shades."

"She is no doubt very beautiful," laughed the Tribune, spreading out
his powerful arms; "let her only approach, she is welcome!"

"May the omen be far distant!" cried the slave.

"Thou art very anxious about me! Does my life concern thee? Why? Say,
for what reason?"

"Oh, sir, thou wast never so angry with Chrysos as"----

"With all the others, wilt thou say?" laughed the Moor. "Only
self-interest, old man; I need thee; that is, thy healing knowledge and
fingers."

"If thou wouldst only pray! And some one creature on the earth,
love--some one name honour! It would be better for thee!"

But the soldier gave a shrill laugh: "Love? Do I not every month love
another woman?"

"Thou destroyest what thou lovest!"

"And pray? To which god shall I pray? With the same fervour and with
the same results, have I seen prayer offered to Astarte and Artemis, to
Osiris and Jupiter, to Christ and Jehovah. But honour? What can be
sacred to me? Hardly so old as that German youth, I was stolen by
Vandal horsemen. Then lost I home, parents for ever! Sold as a
slave to the Romans, I suffered and enjoyed, even as a boy, things
unspeakable--pampered, kissed, fed, whipped. I slew my last master,
escaped into the forests of Calabria, became robber, robber-chief; was
taken, condemned to the sports in the circus, pardoned by the Emperor
when even my blood reddened the arena, placed among the mercenaries,
soon by wild courage centurion and Tribune. To which god shall I pray?
They all forsook me when I believed in them. But since I scorn them
all, Fortune serves me like a beloved maid. And what shall I love and
honour? My palm-rustling home? That is occupied by Vandalic barbarians!
Rome? Rome at first ill-treated me like a captive beast of prey, and
now hunts me like a tamed lion against her enemies. Very well; the
nature as well as the name of this my terrible countryman have I
chosen;" and he patted the proudly-maned head of the desert-king on his
couch. "Booty, enjoyment, battle! Wine, war, women! And at last--no
awakening--eternal night in the silent waste of death!" With that he
seized both amulets, threw them from the tower window, grasped his
spear, which was resting against the wall, and went clanging down the