"My friend," said Victoria reproachfully, "do you leave me at such a moment as this? The sight of this place is harrowing to you, you say—and what about myself? Does not this place recall at every turn memories that must distress me? And yet I shall leave Mayence only when Captain Marion will no longer stand in need of whatever counsel he may think that he may be in need of from me at the start of his government."
"Victoria," put in Captain Marion in a resolute tone, "I have said nothing during this conversation in which you and Tetrik have disposed of me. I am not fluent in words, moreover, my heart is too heavy to-night. I have said little, but I have reflected a good deal. These are my thoughts: I love the profession of arms; I know how to execute a general's orders, and I am not altogether unskilful in the management of troops confided to me. At a pinch I can plan an attack like the one which completed Victorin's great victory by the destruction of the camp and reserve forces of the Franks. This is to say, Victoria, that I do not consider myself more of a fool than others—wherefore I have sense enough to understand that I am not fit for the government of Gaul—"
"Nevertheless, Captain Marion," Tetrik broke in, "Victoria will agree with me that the task is not beyond your strength."
"Oh! As to my strength, that is well known," replied Captain Marion soberly. "Fetch me an ox, and I'll carry him on my back, or fell him with a blow of my fist. But square shoulders are not all that is wanted for the chief of a great people. No—no. I am robust—granted. But the burden of state is too heavy. Therefore, Victoria, do not put such a weight upon me. I would break down under it—and Gaul will, in turn, break down under the weight of my weakness. And, moreover, it might as well be said, I love, after service hours, to go home and empty a pot of beer in the company of my friend Eustace, and chat with him over our old blacksmith's trade, or entertain ourselves with furbishing our arms like skilful armorers. Such am I, Victoria—such have I ever been—and such I wish to remain."
"And these call themselves men! Oh, Hesus!" cried the Mother of the Camps indignantly. "I, a woman—I, a mother—I saw my son and grandson die this very night—and yet I have the necessary fortitude to repress my grief—and this soldier, to whom the most glorious post that can shed luster upon a man is offered, dares to answer with a refusal, giving his love for beer and the polishing of armor as an excuse! Oh! Woe is Gaul, if the very ones whom she regards as her bravest sons thus cowardly forsake her!"
The reproach of the Mother of the Camps impressed Captain Marion. He dropped his head in confusion, remained silent for a moment, and then spoke:
"Victoria, there is but one strong soul here—it is yours. You make me ashamed of myself. Well, then," he added with a sigh, "be it as you will—I accept. But the gods are my witnesses—I accept as a duty and under protest. If I should commit any asininities as Chief of Gaul, none will have a right to reproach me. Very well, I accept, Victoria, but under two imperative conditions."
"What are they?" asked Tetrik.
"This is the first," replied Marion: "The Mother of the Camps shall remain in Mayence to help me with her advice. I am as new a hand at my new work as a blacksmith's apprentice who for the first time dips the iron into the brasier."
"I promised you that I would, Marion," answered my foster-sister. "I shall remain here as long as you may need my services."