ver is crossed by many
wayfarers coming and going." Some writers think that these words point
to the ground now occupied by the celebrated fortress of Peschiera,
close to the point where the Mincio issues from the Lake of Garda.
Others place the interview at Governolo, a little village hard by the
junction of the Mincio and the Po. If the latter theory be true, and it
seems to fit well with the route which would probably be taken by
Attila, the meeting took place in Vergil's country, and almost in sight
of the very farm where Tityrus and Meliboeus chatted at evening under
the beech-tree.

Leo's success as an ambassador was complete. Attila laid aside all the
fierceness of his anger and promised to return across the Danube, and to
live thenceforward at peace with the Romans. But in his usual style, in
the midst of reconciliation he left a loophole for a future wrath, for
"he insisted still on this point above all, that Honoria, the sister of
the Emperor, and the daughter of the Augusta Placidia, should be sent to
him with the portion of the royal wealth which was her due; and he
threatened that unless this was done he would lay upon Italy a far
heavier punishment than any which it had yet borne."

But for the present, at any rate, the tide of devastation was turned,
and few events more powerfully impressed the imagination of that new and
blended world which was now standing at the threshold of the dying
empire than this retreat of Attila, the dreaded king of kings, before
the unarmed successor of St. Peter.

Attila was already predisposed to moderation by the counsels of his
ministers. The awe of Rome was upon him and upon them, and he was forced
incessantly to ponder the question, "What if I conquer like Alaric, to
die like him?" Upon these doubts and ponderings of his supervened the
stately presence of Leo, a man of holy life, firm will, dauntless
courage--that, be sure, Attila perceived in the first moments of their
interview--and, besides this, holding an office honored and venerated
through all the civilized world. The barbarian yielded to his spell as
he had yielded to that of Lupus of Troyes, and, according to a
tradition, which, it must be admitted, is not very well authenticated,
he jocularly excused his unaccustomed gentleness by saying that "he knew
how to conquer men, but the lion and the wolf (Leo and Lupus) had
learned how to conquer him."

The tradition which asserts that the republic of Venice and its