s agreeable, vivacious, well-bred, almost handsome in feature, and
not yet very old. Thousands of the most aristocratic Roman women would
have considered themselves fortunate if--

And this Barbarian girl refused him! It was incomprehensible, and he
determined not to tolerate this "folly."

As she did not appear at breakfast at the usual hour, he sent Prosper
for her. The old man returned without having accomplished his errand.
Bissula was not in her tent, and could not be found anywhere in the
camp.

Ausonius was startled. Then he said to himself: "Oh, nonsense. She
cannot possibly escape from a walled Roman camp which is guarded by a
Saturninus." Yet he finished his early meal hurriedly and anxiously,
and went out to look for her, alone. He wished to spare his future
wife, which Bissula certainly was, the mortification of being dragged
by freedmen or slaves from some hiding-place into which her silly,
childish obstinacy might have led her. First he hastened to the
pine-tree: in vain. She was not concealed there; now, in broad
daylight, one could see through the branches distinctly. He went to her
tent and entered: it was empty. But as he was leaving it again he saw
the broad foot-prints of the bear, and followed the trail: it led
southward, to the lake gate, the Porta Decumana. He had nearly reached
it, when he met Saturninus.

"Turn back, I beg of you," said the latter kindly.

"Isn't she there?"

"Yes! I discovered her by accident, looking down from the wall. She has
hidden herself behind beams and rubbish near the Porta Decumana, like a
sick birdling which creeps into some corner to die alone with its head
under its wing. Give her time! Perhaps she will submit to it."

Ausonius yielded reluctantly as the Tribune, with gentle force, took
his arm, turned him in the opposite direction, and led him back. He was
thoroughly angry, and besides, felt ashamed in Saturninus's presence.

"Soon, I hope," he said angrily.

"Yes," replied the Tribune slowly. "Unless--unless some one else has
won her heart."

"That she positively denied. She was enraged at the mere question; and
falsehood is the perverse little thing's smallest fault. She is still
scarcely more than a child. You see how she behaves. Only a child, an
untutored child, could be led into such conduct."

But the Roman General shrugged his shoulders. "Let us wait. I would far
rather see her yours than a Barbarian's. But think of the offer made by
that Ada