, the moving glare of torches held high as belated wayfarers
crossed the ford, the reflection of the lights dancing on the shallow
waters. The fascination of it, this his first sight of Life, gripped
him, not to be denied. He sprang to the ledge of the window, writhed
himself through, and dropped to the ground outside.

Then, at once, he was in a new world,--a world of flickering flames and
black dancing shadows, and strange sights and sounds, and restless
figures passing always to and fro. And, quite dazed, he stumbled
against one, not a rod from the house, who laughed, with a laughter
which made him think of the tinkling music he had heard, and beckoned
him, drawing him in the darkness. But Nicanor, thrilling through all the
awakening soul and body of him, turned and ran, shy suddenly, but at
what he did not know.

So he came to a fire burning in a ring of stones; and around the fire
men were sitting, eating and drinking, and the light played on their
faces. With them were women, at whom Nicanor stared agape. For they were
very fair to look on, with jewel-bound hair and slumberous eyes, lithe
as snakes, with bare shoulders and dress of strange clinging stuffs.
These were dancing girls, being taken to the great inland cities for
sale or hire. And near by, huddled close for warmth, were slaves,--men,
women, and children, chained in long strings, on the way to be sold in
Gaul. Here were fishermen, also, and boatmen, gathered by themselves, a
noisy crew, with loud jokes which Nicanor heard and did not understand.
All about him was a babel of voices and laughter, boisterous and
profane; now and then an altercation, short and violent. It went to
Nicanor's head like wine. Never had he known anything like it; life like
this had passed his bleak northern home entirely by. He drew nearer the
groups around the fire, drinking it all in greedily,--new sights, new
sounds, new impressions. His face was flushed with excitement, his
breath came short; so much he found to interest him that he stared
bewildered, uncertain what to look at first. The smell of cooking food
was in the air, mingled with the aromatic pungency of many fires of
wood. Horn cups clashed; at intervals hoarse laughter drowned the
shouts of teamsters and the creak and strain of wheels.

And suddenly, under the intoxication of it all, Nicanor found himself
speaking in a new, fierce mood of exultation. What he was going to say
he did not know; but his voice fell int