"It is well that Severus does not hear you, the old armaturarum magister in Juvavum; he would"----
"Yes, he thinks we have yet the old times, and there are still living the old Romans as in the days of that tamer of the Germans, the Emperor Probus, of whose race he counts himself. But by the saints he is mistaken. Why should I be over zealous for the Emperor? He, this Emperor, certainly shows no zeal for me; in strong Ravenna he sits and invents new taxes, and new punishments for those who pay no taxes, because they have nothing."
"The old Severus has long been drilling volunteers to lead against the barbarians, in case they should roam this way. I have been there a few days, painfully carrying spear and shield in this heat. I have never seen thee, so much younger and stronger, on our 'Campus Martius,' as they call it."
Fulvius laughed. "I have no need, uncle; I have learnt to use arms long enough while a prisoner with the Germans, and if the town and one's own hearth must be defended I shall not be wanting--for honour's sake! not that I think we shall do much; for, believe me, if they seriously intend to come, that is, if they must because they need our acres, then Severus will not keep them back with his old-fashioned generalship and his new-fashioned 'Legions of the Capitol of Juvavum,' under the golden eagle which he has presented to them. Nor the Tribune either with his cavalry from Africa and his mercenaries from Isauria. But look! Philemon, the slave, is beckoning; I see the drinking-cup shining on the seat in the little porch--the table is ready. Now drink of our rough Räter-wine; Augustus long ago knew how to value it, and it has been already a year in the cellar since the pack-mule brought it here from the Tyrol. Let us look at Felicitas and the child at her breast, and forget emperors and barbarians."
CHAPTER II.
Meanwhile, slowly walking up the high-road, the two men whom Crispus had announced were approaching the villa; they often stood still, interrupting their progress with an animated conversation.
"No, no," warned the money-dealer, shaking his bald head, which, in spite of the sun, was uncovered, and striking with his staff on the hard road, "such haste, such violence, such impetuosity, as thy passionate longing craves, will not answer, O friend Tribune. Only leave me alone! We are on the right, the safe way."
"Thy way is a crooked, weary, roundabout way, a snail-pace," cried the soldier impatiently, and he threw back his proud head so that the black plume of his helmet rustled on the links of his armour. "To what purpose are these ceremonies? They do not hasten the time when you shall add the little property to your vast possessions. And I--I cannot sleep since the sight of this young woman has inflamed my passions. My heart beats to breaking. All night I toss on my hot couch. By the ungirdled Astarte of Tripolis! I will have this slender Felicitas! And I must have her, or my veins will burst." And his fiery black eyes flashed.
"Thou shalt have her, only patience."
"No! no patience. A sword-thrust will make the milk-sop of a husband cold; in these arms will I lift the struggling one on Pluto, my black horse, and quick to the Capitol, even if all the market-women of Juvavum raise an outcry behind me."