ain sighed deeply.

"A horse neighed behind us, and on it sat the clever old man who a few
winters ago read to the little one in Arbor from many, many parchments,
oh, such a long, horribly long time--while I was obliged to wait to row
her back across the lake."

"Are you perfectly sure," asked Adalo, seizing the bondman by the
shoulder and forcing him to turn his averted face, "that this horseman
was the old Roman?"

"Well, he isn't so very old," replied the Sarmatian evasively, "though
he has grown somewhat grayer since that summer."

"Answer," cried Adalo angrily. "Can you swear that the rider was
Ausonius?"

"Ausonius! Yes, yes, that is what she always called him. Father
Ausonius. And that's what she cried out yesterday when she saw him:
'Father Ausonius!' she shrieked."

He broke off abruptly and began to rub his head (the wound suddenly
seemed to pain him) muttering meanwhile in his Sarmatian dialect, which
Adalo did not understand.

"So it was really he," sighed Adalo. "And I must thank the gods for
having led her to him."

"Freya will reward you for it," said the blind woman suddenly, raising
herself on her left arm and groping with her right hand in the
direction of the voice until she reached the youth's head and stroked
his long locks. "The dwellers in Asgard will repay you for such
thoughts."

"Must I not cherish them, Mother? Oh, if you could only sit up again!"

"Your drink, the Romans' drink, cheers the weary soul."

"Ausonius will protect her from the others. But," Adalo went on
angrily, "who will defend her from Ausonius? She was tenderly attached
to him."

"As a child to its father."

"Be it so--at that time. But now the maiden will owe him gratitude for
everything, even the highest boon."

During this conversation Zercho had repeatedly looked thoughtfully at
both; now he scratched himself behind the ear and was about to make
some remark, but changed his mind and remained silent.

"Against my warning," said the old woman, continuing the bondman's
story, "the child had glided away from my side out of the cellar into
the hut. She grew tired of waiting in the dark hole for Zercho's
return. Suddenly I heard a man's heavy step above me; then a shriek
from the little one, which made me tremble. But by the time I had
groped my way to the stone slab and lifted it, all was still. I vainly
called her name. Soon Zercho came with the news that he had seen her
led away captive. We sorrowfully wa