y as Zercho the bondman had believed: Bissula had become
the captive, not of Ausonius, but another; and his captive she
remained. To the extreme surprise, nay, barely repressed indignation of
the Prefect of Gaul, the younger man had asserted his claim according
to the rights of war. Ausonius had no claims whatever to the prisoner;
that was clear. His nephew undoubtedly might have raised them, and at
first he did make the attempt. But he grew strangely silent when the
Tribune--scarcely in absolute harmony with the truth--said in his
uncle's presence: "The girl had escaped again. I was the first to catch
her finally. Shall I call her, that she may tell you the whole story
herself?"

Herculanus, with a venomous glance, left the tent.

But Ausonius did not understand the imperious rudeness of the brave
soldier who was usually so devoted to him. When the Tribune curtly
appealed to the right of war, Ausonius, deeply offended, pondered over
all the reasons which, as he thought, must induce his friend not to
yield his legal right in this instance to him. The poet, seeking
motives for the act, of course first grasped the nearest: all the men
in the camp gazed at the peculiar beauty of the child with unconcealed
admiration. It was no wonder then that the Illyrian, in the full vigor
of manhood, should also be seized with ardent love for the beautiful
creature who had fallen into his hands and, without really having any
evil design, wanted to keep her in his power until either from
affection or obedience the captive should yield to her master.

But this anxiety, which at first had weighed heavily upon him, was soon
relieved. With the keen distrust of jealousy, he watched his rival
sharply at every meeting; but even suspicion could discover nothing
that would have warranted this conjecture. Quiet, unmoved, and
steadfast as ever was the Tribune's bearing in her presence, which he
neither shunned nor sought, but treated with indifference. He looked
into the wonderful eyes no more frequently than occasion required, and
his glance was calm, his voice did not tremble. So Ausonius regarded
his friend's act as a soldier's strange whim, and did not doubt that he
would soon give it up. But this proved an error.

On returning to the camp Ausonius entreated his friend, without
renouncing his right of possession, to place the young girl in the tent
next to the Prefect's, now occupied by slaves and freedwomen, whom he
would remove. But Satur