t hand, but the tents still concealed it from
their gaze.

"What do you mean?" she stammered.

"I will tell you," said Ausonius in a firmer, sterner tone than he had
ever used. The opposition he now suspected irritated him, and he was
determined to execute his will. "I will tell you that I have resolved
to fulfil my former plan. I shall take you as my guest for an
indefinite time. As my little daughter," he added cautiously, "with me
to Burdigala."

"Never!" cried Bissula, raising both arms in the wildest terror.

"Yes, most certainly."

"But I will not go. I--away from the lake--from--from my people? No,
no, no!"

"Yes, yes, yes! This is not tyrannical nor cruel, as you think now."

"Who will compel me to go away?"

"I. We compel children whom we are educating to do what we desire, for
their own good. You do not understand your real welfare: I will force
you to do so."

"But I am no child; I am--" She advanced toward him defiantly.

"You are a captive. Do not forget that. You must obey your master, and
he--"

"Is here," said a deep voice.

Saturninus stepped between them. With a firm hand he held Bissula, who
had turned, reeled as though giddy, and tried again to scale the wall.
"Do not forget that, Ausonius."

Angered by the interruption, perplexed, and half ashamed, the other
drew back. "What are you doing?"

"I am protecting my captive."

"Against whom?"

"Against every threat: against wiles as well as compulsion--even though
well meant."

Both gazed at him in silence, but the girl's gratitude was blended with
a slight thrill of fear--fear of this protector too.

Ausonius was the first to find words. In tones which revealed wrath,
jealousy, and suspicion, he exclaimed: "And who will protect her
against you?"

"Nothing and no one, except my own will."

"Oh, set me free!" cried Bissula, raising her clasped hands
despairingly to the Tribune.

"That you may tell the Barbarians all you have seen and heard in our
camp? No, little maid. You will stay--perhaps forever. Have no thought
of escape! Here, countryman!" He beckoned to a soldier. "Take her to
the new tent; keep guard there until I leave tonight; then Rignomer the
Batavian will relieve you. And listen: tell my scribe that during the
day he must see that she--" The rest was whispered in the ear of the
Illyrian, who led the wondering, bewildered girl away by the arm.

Ausonius and Saturninus parted without exchanging a single word: the