"What, would you like to pick a husband out among them, dame?" the first speaker laughed.
"I would not mind. At any rate, I would prefer any of them to such an ill looking scarecrow as you," she retorted. "It is bad enough when they kill off some of those Gauls, who are far too good for such work; but the best of them I have seen in the arena lacks six inches, both in height and breadth of shoulder, of these Britons."
"Ah!" the man grumbled, "that is always the way with women; they think of nothing but strength."
"Why shouldn't we? Men think of nothing but beauty."
And so, amid a chorus of remarks, for the most part complimentary, the Britons strode along, surrounded by their escort, until they reached the entrance to the school of Scopus. The master, attracted by the noise in the street, was standing at the entrance. He was a broad built man, but without an ounce of superfluous flesh, with muscles and sinews standing up in knots and ridges, and evidently possessed of extreme activity as well as strength.
"Nero has sent you five fresh scholars, Scopus."
"By Hercules," Scopus said, "they are splendid barbarians! Whence come they?"
"They are Britons."
"Ah! Yes, Claudius brought back a few with him, but that was before I was here. I would they were all a few years younger. They are in their prime now; and to make a man first class, one should begin with him young. This youngster here is just the age. I warrant me there will not be many who can hold their own against him when I have trained him."
"He is their chief," the centurion said, "and speaks our language as well as you do."