"You speak to me like a father," answered Victorin deeply moved by the simple and dignified words of the old captain. "I shall hearken to your words as a son; your old experience guided me on the field of battle when I was still a child; your example made me the soldier that I am; to-day and always I shall strive to approve myself worthy of you and of my mother—worthy of Gaul—"
"It is your duty, seeing that we glory in you and her," rejoined the old captain; and addressing Victoria: "Will the army not see you before we march to battle? To the soldiers and to us your presence always is a good omen—and your good words fire our courage."
"I shall accompany my son as far as the parade ground—let the battle and triumph follow! Once the Roman eagles circled over our enslaved nation! The Gallic cock drove them away! And it will again drive away this cloud of birds of prey that seek to swoop down upon our Gaul!" cried the Mother of the Camps in so proud and superb a transport that, at the moment, I believed I saw before me the goddess of our land and of liberty. "By Hesus, shall the barbarous Franks conquer us? Before that happens neither a lance, nor a sword, nor a scythe, nor a club, nor a stone can have been left in Gaul! By Hesus! We shall triumph over the barbarian Franks!"
At these brave words, the chiefs of the legions, sharing the enthusiasm of Victoria, spontaneously drew their swords, struck them against one another, and cried in chorus the war cry that they had more than once intoned:
"By the iron of our swords, Victoria, we swear to you that Gaul shall remain free!—or you will never see us again!"
"Yes, by your beloved and august name, Victoria, we shall fight to the last drop of our blood."
And all left the room crying:
"To arms, our legions!"
"To arms, our cohorts!"
During the whole scene, in which the military genius of Victorin, his tender deference for his mother, the controlling influence that both she and he exercised over the chiefs of the army were displayed, I more than once cast a covert look at the Governor of Gascony, who had withdrawn into a corner of the room. Was it fear at the approach of the Franks? Was it secret rage at witnessing how idle were his calumnies against Victorin?—because, despite the blandness and skilfulness of his defense, my suspicions were not lulled to sleep—I know not; but his livid and disturbed face grew by degrees more horrid to behold. Doubtlessly, evil thoughts and impulses, that he meant to keep concealed, came to the surface in that moment. Immediately after the departure of the chiefs, and as the Mother of the Camps turned to speak with the governor, the latter strove to resume his customary mask of mildness. Making an effort to smile he said to Victoria: