"Yes, she does!" cried the rogue, pouting defiantly.
"Indeed? Then we'll question you," I cried, "on the rack."
"That isn't necessary. I am willing to tell."
"Well, where are they?" asked the Tribune seriously.
She glided out of the tent, thrust her head saucily through the opening, and laughed mischievously: "They dwell with Odin and the nixie in the lake. Search for them there yourself!" And she vanished.
Her favorite resting-place is at the foot of a huge pine-tree; it is sacred, dedicated to a German goddess who, according to the description, probably corresponds with Isis. I have repeatedly found her there. Once she was swinging among the branches like a little bird. She begged me not to betray her hiding-place to the others--the Tribune and my nephew. She often liked to dream there all alone. Well, I certainly shall not betray her. If I know where to look for her, the others shall not find her against her will.
IV. BEFORE THE KALENDS OF SEPTEMBER.
I regretted the artist's absence a short time since, and cannot get him to come here. But perhaps Bissula will go later to the artist, to Burdigala. How I wished it long ago! Oh, Paulus, if only I could show her to you! The more I write of her and think of her, the more she pleases me. Or perhaps the contrary is the case. I will write and think of her no more.
* * * * *
You will not believe, my dear friend, how much I enjoy the military life I have not witnessed for so long. I understand little about it, but the pomp and pride and power of war stir me very strongly.