aetor of Gaul to return to that
shore full of murderous wolves. No, indeed I will not. Neither will I
risk the life of any Roman soldier. Who is to take her to the land?"

"I will go myself alone!" cried the eager girl.

"That some Roman murderous wolf may follow you again on your way to the
hall; they are still worse!" cried the voice of some one, in German.
"No, illustrious Tribune," it continued in Latin, "I will take the
child to her friends."

Rignomer now stepped from behind the sail which had concealed him. His
appearance was totally transformed: he had removed the Roman helmet
long before; now he had unbuckled the coat of mail and thrown around
him a brown Alemannic mantle which he had found in the boat. Instead of
the Roman weapons he carried over his shoulder a long iron-shod pole,
used for pushing and guiding boats while it could touch the bottom.

"You?" asked Saturninus. "You too will be a dead man if they catch
you--a warrior in the Roman service."

"Pardon me; I am one no longer. My time of service expired at
midnight--the last of the long seven years: what I did since--"

"It was----" replied Saturninus.

"Was done voluntarily. I shall not renew my oath of service. No, no! I
have had enough--more than enough of it. The Emperor still owes my pay
for the last month. I will let it go. I shall return to my mother, on
the Issala. But first I will take this runaway child to her people."

As he spoke he grasped her hand. "Jump over, little one. See, the other
boat is empty: they have all climbed up into the galley. Jump over!
Happily, we are going home!"

"So be it!" said Ausonius, without resentment but gravely: "Farewell,
Bissula! We part never to meet again."

He turned away. Bissula threw herself on his breast and, amid flowing
tears, kissed his noble brow. His face had never been so handsome.
"Ausonius, farewell!"

She sprang into the second boat, where Rignomer was already standing;
then she turned again toward the other one. This had been fastened by a
rope to the galley and now began to follow it as, propelled by many
oars, it swept toward the southwest.

"Father Ausonius, I thank you!" she called. But he did not hear. With
his face averted from his young friend, and his gray head pressed
against the mast, he was weeping bitterly.

The ship, dragging the boat in its wake, flew swiftly away.

* * * * *

The Batavian wielded the oars sturdily, and the l