l of exquisite Corinthian workmanship, diffused both
light and perfume through the Prefect's sumptuously furnished and
richly decorated tent. Ausonius was lying on the low couch: before him
stood the Tribune. Prosper, the old freedman, was pushing forward the
citrus wood dining-table, which ran on rollers.

Herculanus entered, greeted all present pleasantly and took his place
on the second couch, opposite to Ausonius. "Where is Davus?" he asked
the freedman impatiently. "I am thirsty!"

"He ought to have been here long ago," replied Prosper. "He often
wanders about needlessly, nobody knows where. You must have him put in
the block again, patronus."

"What," cried Ausonius laughing, "have you actually dragged the block
here, you rigid slave-overseer, all the way from Vindonissa?"

"Three fine ones, patronus. If you take bad slaves with you, I must
take good blocks."

Saturninus was about to go: "The business of the service is over for
to-day, Prefect. Perhaps Nannienus may arrive with the galleys
to-morrow. He sent a swift galley across the lake to-day: he will
arrive very soon. Then, at last, we can begin our work without delay.
But," he added in a kindly tone, advancing a step nearer to the lectus,
"Will you permit me to utter a word of warning. Prefect Praetor of Gaul?
Yesterday, and to-day still more, you complained of illness; chills
followed by short attacks of fever: will you not remain here in the
camp to-morrow (Bissula shall nurse you), instead of marching with us
into the swampy forests? I fear you already have the marsh fever."

Just at that moment Davus entered, bringing the beautiful
mixing-vessel, filled, and several empty goblets.

"Davus, you lazy hound!" shouted Herculanus. "Quick! I am thirsty!
Wine!"

But Saturninus, bending anxiously over the reclining figure, went on:
"Acid old Caecubian is said to be a good remedy for this fever. May I
send you some from my store, Prefect?"

But Ausonius still remained silent. Contradictory feelings had been
struggling for mastery in his soul since the Illyrian's last words. On
the one hand his resentment was very vehement against the obstinate
soldier who, for some incomprehensible whim, opposed the dearest wish
of his heart. But even during these days of constraint Saturninus had
treated him so respectfully, while he himself had been very harsh to
his old friend. And he loved the gallant General so warmly! And now
this touching, unfeigned solicitude fo