gazing with wondering eyes at the
strange vision. A sweet rapture ran through his veins as he saw the
lovely little face, the delicate, graceful limbs, the bare white feet,
and felt the pulsing of the young life through the round arm his hand
held so firmly.

The prisoner made no reply, but she looked up trustfully into the
Illyrian's handsome, manly face. Then she cast a strange glance, as if
seeking for some one, back into the hut,--Saturninus had dragged her
from the doorway into the open air,--and seemed to be listening
anxiously.

"Yes, it is Bissula," said Herculanus, now also coming out. "What made
you imagine that I wanted to kill her? I have been searching for her
since the earliest dawn."

"So I thought."

"Not for myself; I was only holding her firmly to prevent her escape."

"With a quivering sword uplifted to strike?"

"Only to frighten her."

But Bissula cast a reproachful glance at him.

"However that may be," the Illyrian continued, "she is my captive." His
glowing eyes rested on her; the girl lowered her long lashes in
embarrassment.

"No, no! I discovered her."

"But before you seized her a second time--for she was free again--I
captured her. Dare to contradict it, you murderer of girls!" and he
advanced threateningly toward him.

The sound of a tuba rang from the forest.

"We must return. The tuba gives a sign of warning," said Saturninus.
"The first trace of the foe has been found--not only the child--a man."

Bissula looked up anxiously.

"He lay covered with skins," the other added, as they moved forward,
"hidden among the rushes so that he could not be distinguished from a
fallen tree. Before we could seize him--"

Bissula uttered a sigh of relief.

"He had vanished in the sedges. A Batavian archer shot an arrow after
him. Hark! the Prefect is giving the signal again. Come without fear,
child."

He led her by the wrist, carefully trying not to hurt her; but she
often stopped, glancing back at the hut, and once also at the lake.
After a few steps they heard the neighing of a horse and soon entered
an opening in the forest, where Ausonius had halted his mounted escort.

"Father Ausonius!" cried the captive joyously, struggling to release
herself to rush to him.

But the Illyrian's grasp on her arm became like iron. Approaching the
Prefect, who held out both arms to Bissula, he made a military salute,
saying sternly: "The first encounter with the enemy! A man has escaped: