"Who is she, and who are you?" asked the chief, sternly; for his eyes, now that they looked into those of a man and an inferior, had regained all their wild fierceness.
Ligurius hesitated, partly from lack of wind and partly from a doubt as to how much or what it would be wise to tell.
"Speak!" cried the other, impatiently.
Marcia threw aside the curtains which had been allowed to fall back in their place, and leaned out. The scene looked critical; the Gaul's face was working with nervous irritation, while his followers, scarcely recovered from his sudden onslaught, stood around in a ring, some fingering their swords, and with expressions whose wonder and stupidity seemed fast giving place to the lust of blood and plunder. Caipor had been knocked senseless at the beginning, and the driver was in the hands of several soldiers.
Ligurius looked inquiringly at his mistress.
"He asks who we are," he said. "What shall I say?"
"Ah! you plot to deceive me," cried the Gaul, losing control of his temper, and, before Marcia could answer, he struck the freedman down with his staff. One of his followers shifted his sword belt, and, half drawing the great weapon, stepped forward; but Marcia had sprung from the rheda, and stood, with clenched hands and flashing eyes, above her prostrate attendant.
"Bandits! Murderers!" she cried. "Does your general permit you to rob and kill travellers that seek to enter a friendly city?"
Understanding the act rather than the words, the soldier halted, and the chief's eyes began again to shift nervously; but soon an expression of mingled lust and cunning came into them.
"You are beautiful," he said. "You shall not die, you shall dwell in my hut."