CHAPTER XLIV.
The curtains had scarcely dropped behind them when Ausonius exclaimed:"He must not die! My Melania's son! He must fly into exile!"
"The Emperor will decide. But you, friend Ausonius, praise Heaven,which sent you this child. You owe your life solely to her."
The Prefect drew the young girl to the couch by his side and kissed herhands and brow. She submitted, for she was weeping. He would fain havekissed her lips too, but he forebore. The usually defiant creature wasso childlike, so helpless from sheer emotion over his escape. So heonly stroked her beautiful head with his hand and said, deeply movedhimself: "The Christians have a superstition which I have oftenderided, of a guardian angel which God gives to mortals. I shall neverdo so again. You, Bissula, are my guardian angel!"
"But angels ought not to be slaves," remarked the Illyrian with a smilewhich well became his manly face. "I give you this child, Ausonius; sheis your slave now. Do with her as you choose."
"I set her free, this moment. Bissula, you are free!"
"Oh, thanks, thanks, thanks!" cried the young girl exultantly,springing from the couch. "Now away,--away at once to my people,--to mygrandmother,--to--"
"Not so fast, little one," interposed Saturninus. "Even the faithful,grateful freedwoman (the legal form of the act is still lacking) mustobey the will of the patronus. I doubt whether he will let you flyaway, you lovely little wild bird."
Bissula fixed her wonderful eyes beseechingly, imploringly, uponAusonius, but the latter did not see it; he was gazing, rigid withamazement, at the Tribune.
"My friend--I don't understand you. Why do you so suddenly--I almostthought that you yourself--"
"Let us spare the child. I will say only this much; she can hear itwithout flushing too deeply, and sudden blushes are so becoming toher! A man need not be a poet, my Ausonius, to find our--pardon me,your--little maid very, very charming. I don't deny it; the first timeI saw her--well, she certainly would displease no one! But I soon toldmyself what the duty of friendship commanded, and remembered that mylife belongs wholly to the god of war. I ordered my heart to calm myblood. They belong to a soldier, and instantly obeyed."
At these words Bissula, in spite of the warning, or perhaps on accountof it, had flushed crimson and glided away from the two men. She wasjust slipping out of the tent; but Saturninus gently caught her by thehair, held her firmly, laughing merrily, and said: "Stay, little one.The worst is over now, at any rate from me."
"But why," Ausonius went on, "have you all this time--Even yesterday--"
"Because I suspected your nephew's murderous designs, though onlyagainst her. I could protect her solely as her master. If she hadremained, as you desired, in your tent, he could have killed theunguarded girl at any hour of the day or night. I watched her for you!Now it is no longer necessary. Obey your heart. I will leave youalone."
"Yes, but what more is to be done?" asked Bissula plaintively, holdingthe Tribune--she did not know why--firmly by the arm. "I am so tired!"she added. "Let me go to sleep now. And to-morrow, away! Back to mypeople!"
"Yes, my noble friend," said Ausonius, with a certain solemnity, slowlyrising from his couch, "stay! I myself desire it. You shall be thefirst witness: my resolution is formed, unalterable! Bissula, I owe mylife to you: in return there is but one reward--this life, my lifeitself."
The girl drew back in terror. She did not understand him.
"A slave was of course impossible. To wed even his own freedwoman isagainst the law for a Senator; but I shall undoubtedly receive adispensation from the Emperor, and I care nothing for the jests of mycolleagues."
"What do you want to do with me?" asked the young girl anxiously.
"Except the Caesar," Ausonius went on thoughtfully, "no man in theWestern Empire stands above me; only two are of equal rank. I amPraefectus Praetorio of Gaul. Nay, more,--no one knows it yet, not evenyou,--my Saturninus,--the Emperor has promised me next year the highesthonor in the Roman State. This coming year will take its name from me."
"You are to be Consul?" cried the Tribune, reverently.
"What is it? What does it mean?" asked the poor girl, now thoroughlyfrightened. The solemnity, and the numerous Roman names of dignitieswere becoming more and more mysterious.
But Ausonius, nodding complacently, continued: "And no living poet ismy peer. Bissula, you shall share all this with me. Tomorrow you shallgo with me to Vindonissa to the Emperor. Yes, yes, don't shake yourdefiant little head, you shall be with me all my life, for I, Ausonius,Ausonius of Burdigala, will make you my wife!"
He now drew himself up to his full height, stretching both arms to her.With glowing cheeks, throbbing heart, and eyes flashing with shame andfear and wrath, Bissula, crimsoning more and more deeply, had listenedto the last words and gazed in horror at the approaching Roman. Now sheuttered a loud shriek: "No! No! Never!"
Wrenching herself from Saturninus, who tried to hold her, she sprangout of the tent. Outside, panting for breath, she ran as fast as herlittle feet would carry her, through the dark silent camp, reached hertent, unfastened Bruna, led her in, pressed her down on the ground,flung herself beside her and, bursting into a torrent of tears, buriedher face in the soft thick fur.
The faithful, intelligent animal doubtless knew that something waswrong. Licking the girl's fingers, the bear growled, a low, soft,tender growl, like a mother soothing her sick child. The monotonous,droning tone produced a drowsy influence like a lullaby. So, under theprotection of the bear, though often sobbing vehemently, Bissula atlast fell asleep.
BOOK THREE
THE FREEDWOMAN