over-zealous nephew.

But Ausonius replied kindly: "Certainly, my dear fellow, you are left
to me, but you alone out of the whole circle of my family swept away in
a single year by the pestilence: my Sabina, my three children, my two
sisters and two sweet young nieces. Can you alone fill the places of
all? I often feel so lonely. And you are a man. My gentle wife, my
daughters, my sisters, my nieces, how I miss them! I confess it: I need
the melody of women's voices, their graceful movements around me. I
miss something!"

The young Roman, excited, hastily seized the goblet. The Tribune looked
him keenly in the face and, without averting his eyes from the nephew,
suddenly said to the uncle in a very loud tone: "You must marry again!"
Then the Illyrian turned away from Herculanus: he seemed to have seen
enough.

"Yes," said Ausonius slowly, almost solemnly, "I have often thought of
it. It is a serious, a very serious matter--at my age."

"At any age," said Saturninus. "Years will not stand in your way. You
are perhaps fifty?"

"Fifty-two," sighed the Prefect. "And my hair is gray!"

"Not very yet! Besides, mine is too. In my case from the weight of the
helmet. And it is becoming. You are a--"

"Handsome old man, you are going to say," replied Ausonius smiling.
"That is not exactly what pleases maidens."

"Well, you need not choose a girl of sixteen."

"But not one much older!" said the poet quickly. "No, my friend! I want
youth and charm near me."

"That you may have too," said the Illyrian. "You can select from your
whole province, nay, the whole Empire. You, the highest official in
Gaul, the Emperor's tutor and favorite, the celebrated poet and--"

"And the richest match in the whole West," interrupted the nephew
sharply. Hitherto he had remained persistently silent, his eyes cast
down and the expression of his mouth covered by his hand. "The richest
gray beard on this side of the Alps!" he added.

"Yes, that is it," said Ausonius bitterly. "Herculanus only says openly
and frankly what has secretly tortured me so much all these years, nay,
what has alone deterred me. You know, my friend,--or rather, you blunt
Tribune of the camp, you do not know,--for what reasons parents in our
large cities marry their daughters, nay, how these girls themselves,
almost before they have laid aside their dolls, instantly look out for
'a good catch'! In sooth, neither Eros nor Anteros, but Hermes and
Plutus unite couples no