reast, and drawing his dagger, he
rushed into the throng--

'Villains! Hellhounds! I will balk you! She shall die first!'

And the bright blade gleamed over Victoria's head.... He was struck
down--blinded--half-stunned--but rose again with the energy of
madness.... What was this? Soft arms around him.... Victoria's!

'Save him! spare him! He saved us! Sir! It is my brother! We are safe!
Oh, spare the dog! It saved my father!'

'We have mistaken each other, indeed, sir!' said a gay young Tribune, in
a voice trembling with joy. 'Where is my father?'

'Fifty yards behind. Down, Bran! Quiet! O Solomon, mine ancestor, why
did you not prevent me making such an egregious fool of myself? Why, I
shall be forced, in self-justification, to carry through the farce!'

There is no use telling what followed during the next five minutes,
at the end of which time Raphael found himself astride of a goodly
war-horse, by the side of the young Tribune, who carried Victoria before
him. Two soldiers in the meantime were supporting the Prefect on his
mule, and convincing that stubborn bearer of burdens that it was not
quite so unable to trot as it had fancied, by the combined arguments of
a drench of wine and two sword-points, while they heaped their general
with blessings, and kissed his hands and feet.

'Your father's soldiers seem to consider themselves in debt to him: not,
surely, for taking them where they could best run away?'

'Ah, poor fellows!' said the Tribune; 'we have had as real a panic among
us as I ever read of in Arrian or Polybius. But he has been a father
rather than a general to them. It is not often that, out of a routed
army, twenty gallant men will volunteer to ride back into the enemy's
ranks, on the chance of an old man's breathing still.'

'Then you knew where to find us?' said Victoria.

'Some of them knew. And he himself showed us this very by-road
yesterday, when we took up our ground, and told us it might be of
service on occasion--and so it has been.'

'But they told me that you were taken prisoner. Oh, the torture I have
suffered for you!'

'Silly child! Did you fancy my father's son would be taken alive? I and
the first troop got away over the garden walls, and cut our way out into
the plain, three hours ago.'

'Did I not tell you,' said Victoria, leaning toward Raphael, 'that God
would protect His own?'

'You did,' answered he; and fell into a long and silent meditation.

CHAPTER XIV: THE