ing a warrior slain, and a hostile head embalmed in the
coffers of the valiant rider.

"See, Julia, see," whispered Arvina, as he passed slowly by their chariot,
"that must be one of their great chiefs, and a man of extraordinary
prowess. Look at the horns of the mighty Urus on his helmet, a brute
fiercer, and well nigh as large as a Numidian elephant. He must have slain
it, single-handed in the forest, else had he not presumed to wear its
trophies, which belong only to the greatest of their champions. For every
stud of silver on his casque of bronze he must have fought in a pitched
battle; and for each tuft of hair upon his charger's poitrel he must have
slain a foe in hand-to-hand encounter. There are eighteen tufts on this
side, and, I warrant me, as many on the other. Doubtless, he has already
stricken down thirty-six foemen."

"And he numbers not himself as yet so many years! Ye Gods! what monsters,"
exclaimed Julia, shuddering at the idea of human hair used as a
decoration. "Are they not anthropophagi, the Gauls, my Paullus?"

"No, by the Gods! Julia," answered Arvina, laughing; "but very valiant
warriors, and hospitable beyond measure to those who visit their native
mountains; admirers, too, of women, whom they regard as almost divine,
beyond all things. I see that stout fellow looking wild admiration at you
now, from his clear blue eyes, though he would fain be thought above the
reach of wonder."

"Are they believers in the Gods, or Atheists, as well as barbarous?"

"By Jupiter! neither barbarous, to speak the truth, nor Atheists; they
worship Mercury and Jove, Mars and Apollo, and Diana, as we do; and though
their tongues be something wild, and their usages seem strange to us, it
cannot be denied that they are a brave and noble race, and at this time
good friends to the Roman people. Mark that old chieftain; he is the
headman of the tribe, and leader of the embassy, I doubt not."

While he was speaking, a dozen other chiefs had ridden by, accompanied by
the chiefs of the Roman escort, some men in the prime of life, some
grizzled and weather-beaten, and having the trace of many a hard-fought
field in the scars that defaced their sunburnt visages. But the last was
an old man, with long silver hair, and eyebrows and mustachios white as
the snow on his native Jura; the principal personage evidently of the
band, for his casque was plated with gold, and his shirt of mail richly
gilded, and the very plaid which h