"Hic habitat Felicitas!" read the Tribune. "For yet how long?" asked he, laughing.
"Nihil mali intret!" concluded the merchant. "It is well that wishes are not bolts."
"Or we should not come in!" said the other; and he trod scornfully with a quick step on the neat letters. These were rubbed smooth as a mirror with fresh oil. Leo's foot slipped, he staggered, tried to recover himself, stumbled again, and fell with a cry of pain on the stone slab, helmet and armour loudly rattling.
CHAPTER III.
Immediately, before his companion could stretch forth a hand to help him, the enraged man had tried to rise, but with a wild curse he sank again to the ground, and repelled vehemently the attempt of the other to assist him.
"Let me lie; the foot is broken or the ankle is sprained. No, it is the knee. I do not know. But I cannot stand--I must be carried."
"I will call the people of the house. The stone-mason is coming already."
"I will strike him dead if he touches me. I will have no help from him. On the other side of the road to the left I saw some of my people spear-throwing on the drill-ground. Call them to me, they shall carry me away."
And this was done.
While the money-changer had gone for the soldiers Fulvius came forward, but the Tribune turned away from him and would not speak; silent, suppressing any utterance of pain, he was carried by the strong Moors into the town, where they soon obtained a litter and took him to the Capitol.