to be held. Nearly all the captives
seemed to me to be mournful, depressed and submissive like myself. They
lowered their eyes like men ashamed to look at one another. Among the
last, I recognized two or three men of my own tribe. One of them passed
close to me, and said in a low voice:

"Guilhern, we are shaven; but hair will grow again, and nails also."

I comprehended that the Gaul wished to give me to understand that some
day would come the hour of vengeance. But in the great cowardice which
paralyzed me since my awakening, such was my fear of the "horse-dealer"
that I pretended not to understand my countryman.[26]

The space engaged by the "horse-dealer" for the auction was not a great
way from the shed where we had been kept prisoners. We speedily arrived
at a sort of booth or stall, surrounded on three sides by planks,
covered with canvas, and with the floor strewn with straw. Other booths,
similar to it, were arranged to the right and left of a long space like
a street. In this space Roman officers and soldiery walked in crowds,
together with the buyers and sellers of slaves and various other men who
follow in the wake of armies. They looked at the captives chained in the
booths with a jeering and insulting curiosity. My master had informed
me that his stall in the market was directly opposite that of his
companion in whose possession were the two children. A cloth was lowered
over the opening. I only heard, a few moments later, imprecations and
piercing shrieks, mingled with mournful moans, from women, who were
crying in Gallic:

"Death, death, but not disgrace!"

"Those timorous fools are playing the vestals, because they are stripped
naked to be shown to the customers," said the "horse-dealer," who had
kept near me. Presently he took me to the rear of the booth. On the way
I counted nine captives, some in their youth, others middle-aged, and
only two were past their prime. Some were seated on the straw, their
faces turned down to escape the looks of the curious, others were lying
prone, their faces to the ground; a few stood erect casting fierce
glances around them. The keepers, their scourges in their hands, their
swords at their sides, kept watch. The "horse-dealer" pointed to a
wooden cage, a sort of large box at the back of the booth, and said to
me:

"Friend Bull, you are the pearl, the carbuncle of my assortment. Enter
this cage. The comparisons which would be made between you and my other
slaves