Bissula. English

by Felix Dahn

  CHAPTER XIII.

  "Oh, that must not be taken so literally," Ausonius remarked.

  "I am not superstitious. I rely possibly too much upon my sword and toolittle upon heaven; and I care nothing about the Vestal virgins. But Ido not like the second step your pupil took last year in Rome."

  "What do you mean?"

  "He removed from the council-hall of the Senate the altar of thegoddess of victory, where sacrifices were offered before the opening ofdebates."

  "Constantine had removed it previously."

  "But Julian, the mighty conqueror of the Alemanni, restored it. And, byJupiter!--pardon me, by God!--with good success. The priests called him'the apostate,' but the goddess of victory was not unfaithful to him.Now men fight stoutly, with or without the goddess of victory. But--Iam a Roman--I dread the omen."

  "You see the matter in too dark colors."

  "You see it in too rosy a light. Your kind heart wishes good to all."

  "Yes, even to the Barbarians!" Ausonius nodded, raising his goblet."They are human beings, too. And as the Stoa, not the Galilean, firsttaught, all men are brothers."

  "But there are too many of these yellow-maned brothers."

  "And I believe in a deity--call him by whatever name you choose--thatdirects all things well. Therefore I believe that these Barbarians willlisten to reason and soon offer you their submission."

  "Perhaps the little girl--what is her name? Bissula--will alsosurrender to Ausonius," said the Tribune in a jesting tone.

  "Oh, the dear child! If I could only see her again."

  "Do not wish it, Prefect."

  "Why?"

  "Perhaps she will conquer you! She would not be the first Barbarian.Was it Pipa--or Pipara--that the girl of the Marcomanni was called,with whom even an emperor fell desperately and hopelessly in love?"

  "You forget I wanted her for a daughter, not a wife."

  "At that time. Now she is no longer a child--and you are a widower."

  "Alas! she probably fled with her people long ago. And yet, I am soready to believe what I desire!"

  "Yes, that is one of your most amiable weaknesses,"

  "Am I to hope for what I fear?"

  "No, but to think what we do not desire more probable than what wewish--that is my wisdom."

  "No, no! I will not allow myself to be robbed of the hope that I shallagain see the little nymph of these forests."

  "But if I catch her," cried the Tribune, laughing, "she will be mineaccording to the laws of war."

  A sudden change of expression--like a flash of lightning--flickeredacross Herculanus's hazard visage. The Tribune did not see; his eyeswere fixed upon Ausonius's face, wondering that his features shouldpale with fear.

  "Can this feeling be so deep-seated in my worthy friend?" he thought.

  "Uncle, surely you know that the Tribune is jesting," cried Herculanus,as if to comfort him.

  The Illyrian turned toward him with a threatening bearing, saying in astern, grave tone: "Who tells you so?"

  Ausonius cast a hasty, anxious glance at the handsome, stately man;then he tried to smile, but the attempt was not very successful. "Yourjest brought before me the possibility of a terrible earnest. If thecharming, innocent child should fall into the hands of one of ourpitiless centurions! Horrible!"

  "It has been the fate of thousands--pshaw, what am I saying--of manyhundred thousands, since we Romans bore our eagles over the world. Youpoets--even you, my softhearted friend--are fond of singing the praisesof war. I tell you, he who knows and directs it rarely lauds it. War isnecessary. I laugh at the foolish weaklings who, like the worthystoics, or the monks, imagine that some day there will be a kingdom ofeternal peace. War is grand; death for one's native land is the mostpowerful feeling that rules mankind; but war is horrible! To me it doesnot matter," he added, laughing, as he drained his goblet. "I need onlymake war, not answer for it, and above all, I need not sing itspraises, I am neither anvil nor lyre; I am hammer, and woe to thevanquished! For a thousand years we have carried the terrors of ourvictories to all nations: an unprecedented loyalty on the part ofFortuna. But now--I hope I shall not witness it--now her wheel isgradually rolling backward--toward us--over us!"

  "Never!" cried the poet. "What can these half-naked Barbarians doagainst us? So long as we have warriors like you and, for the serviceof the Muses, minds--"

  "Like Ausonius's, do you mean? Enviable self-reliance! I tell you, Iconsider myself--and far better soldiers than I--incapable of resistingthis ever-advancing ocean which is called 'Germans.' I have gonethrough many a campaign against them--against these very Alemanni. Ithink they know my name! But there is something mysterious under thissurging multitude--I know not what--a motive power unintelligible to usall, which can no more be resisted with sword and spear than the seaitself. I have long sought the clue to the secret, yet cannot find it.But so far as the service of the Muses is concerned--pardon a rudesoldier--we need peasants, not poets. There are only millionaires,beggars, and slaves. Give me a hundred thousand free peasants of theancient Latin stock, and I'll sacrifice in return for them all theLatin poets, dead and living, and once more believe in the future ofRome. As things are--but it is already late," he cried, starting up."Let us seek our couches. We shall not be able to end this oldconflict of ours; coming generations will decide it, but not withwords. Good-night! Dream of Bissula--that we may find her: you believein dreams. For to-morrow--Nannienus has at least completed a couple ofships which he will send to cruise along the northern shore--we willmake a little expedition eastward."

  He raised the curtain and strode in his clanking armor out into thedarkness; he could not help thinking constantly of the beautifulwood-nymph. Herculanus also took his leave, but he was scarcely outsidethe tent when he shook his clenched fist threateningly toward the east,muttering through his set teeth: "Wait, Barbarian witch!" But Ausoniusstretched himself on his camp bed, put out the light, and murmured:"Sleep peacefully, my Bissula, wherever you may be; to-morrow perhaps Ishall once more see those never-to-be-forgotten eyes."