Within half an hour, Petreius and his guards with several mounted officers, and a lady upon a white palfrey, came riding slowly toward the fatal spot, pausing from time to time to examine every pile of carcasses, and after causing his men to dismount and turn over the bodies, in the hope of finding him they sought.
Their search had hitherto been fruitless, and unrewarded even by the discovery of any wounded friends or comrades, for this was the place in which the battle had been most desperately contested, and few had fallen here but to die almost on the instant.
But now a weak voice was heard calling to the general.
"Petreius, he is here! here! He is here, noble Petreius!"
"The immortal Gods be praised!" cried Julia, interpreting the casual words at once to signify Arvina, and giving her palfrey the rein, she gallopped to the spot, followed by Petreius shaking his head gloomily; for he was not so deceived.
"Who? who is here?" exclaimed the general. "Ha! my stout Pansa, right glad am I to find you living. See to him, quickly, Postumus, and Capito. But whom do you mean? Who is here?"
"Catiline! Paullus Arvina slew him!"—
"By all the Gods!" exclaimed Petreius, leaping down from his horse and gazing at the hideous mutilated carcase, still breathing a little, and retaining in its face that ferocity of soul which had distinguished it while living!
But swifter yet than he, Julia sprang from her saddle, and rushed heedless and unconscious, through pools of blood, ancle deep, treading on human corpses, in her wild haste, and cast herself down on the well known armor, the casque crested and the cloak embroidered by her own delicate hands, which could alone be distinguished of her lover's prostrate form.
"Aye! me! aye me! dead! dead! my own Arvina!"