its hard walls; and my master,
becoming angry, swore 'by the slumber of Justinian'--that is his biggest
oath--that he would never blow the signal of retreat before this Castle
of Anglon. Now our outposts were very often surprised by sallies from the
fortress; we, in the highly-situated camp, could see the assaulters as
they issued from the fortress, but our outposts, lying at the foot of
the hill, could not. I now advised that we should give our people the
signal of retreat from the camp whenever we saw the danger approaching.
But I met with a fine reception! The slumber of Justinian was such a
sacred thing that no one dare meddle with an oath sworn by it. And so
our poor fellows were obliged to let themselves be taken unawares by
the Persians, until I hit upon the ingenious expedient of proposing to
my master that we should give the signal of retreat to our men not with
the trumpet but with the horn. The idea pleased my honest Belisarius.
And so when we merrily blew the horn to the attack, our men ran away
like frightened hares. It was enough to make one die with laughing to
see those belligerent sounds produce such a despicable effect! But it
availed. Justinian's slumber and Belisarius's oath remained intact, our
outposts were no more butchered, and at last the rocky fortress fell.
Thus I always scold and laugh at Belisarius for his heroic acts, but in
reality my heart is warmed and gladdened: he is the last hero."

"Well," observed Cethegus, "amongst the Goths you will find many such
sturdy fellows."

Procopius nodded reflectively:

"Can't deny that I have great pleasure in these Goths. But they are too
stupid."

"How? Why?"

"They are stupid because, instead of pressing upon us slowly, step by
step, in union with their yellow-haired brethren (they would be
irresistible!) they have planted themselves singly in the midst of
Italy, without right or reason, like a piece of wood in the centre of a
glimmering hearth. They will be ruined by this; they will be burnt, you
will see!"

"I hope to see it. And what then?" asked Cethegus quietly.

"Yes," answered Procopius peevishly, "what then? That is the vexation.
Then Belisarius will be Governor of Italy--for it will not last a year
with the purple Prince--and he will wear away his fine strength here in
idleness, when there is work enough to do in Persia. And then, as his
court-historian, I shall only have to write down how many skins of wine
we empty yearly."

"S