Hitherto Herculanus had remained concealed from both Romans and Germans in the tent on the cross street where he had sought refuge. Now everything around had become so still that he might have supposed the camp to be deserted, but the cautious fugitive probably would not have left the tent yet if the fire, and still more the smoke, of the consuming leather had not driven him away. Peering timidly between the folds, he glided out, and his first glance fell upon the hated girl to whom he believed he owed his downfall. With a short, half stifled cry of savage delight in vengeance, he sprang toward her, the quivering dagger uplifted, when he saw that he was discovered. But Bissula had a good start; he was obliged to pass the fifty paces of the cross street before reaching the corner tent where she had just been kneeling, and his aching feet would not permit him to follow as fast as his hate desired.

Meanwhile Bissula fled like a hunted deer down the central street to the gate; there she glanced back. Alas, he must have guessed the direction of her flight, for he also ran toward the gate and saw her pass out into the open country. He followed.

At first hate and revenge urged him recklessly on. But now, after obeying these impulses, he said to himself while running:

"Ausonius is dead; I am his heir. And perhaps the few others who knew of the incident died, too, in this hour, like Davus; only the Barbarian girl lives. Has he, meantime, made her his heiress? Hardly! And even if it were so, the will has probably burned with the other things in the camp; and even if it should be saved, what harm can it do, if the person named as heiress also perishes during this night of universal slaughter? However that may be, she shall not--must not live."

He too had reached the gate. The gray dawn of day was already diffusing sufficient pale light for him speedily to discover the flying figure on the opposite side of the ditch; her white garments and fluttering red locks betrayed her when the wind bore the glare from the burning camp in her direction.

Herculanus leaped into the ditch, but uttered a cry of pain, and fell: his feet were too lame. Climbing and dragging himself up with his hands, with great difficulty and keen suffering he succeeded in reaching the southern side of the trench. The fugitive had gained a longer distance in advance. The Roman perceived this with furious rage and, battling with the pain, forcing his reluctant feet to bear him onward, he redoubled his efforts to overtake her.

Bissula was doubtless greatly terrified when, after passing through the gate into the open country, she again saw flames rising before, as well as behind her, and heard the din of the raging battle. She had learned from Prosper the arrival of the ships and the camp made by the lake, so she understood that the conflict was probably now roaring around the galleys. Yet she unhesitatingly obeyed the impulse which led her away from Herculanus straight down to the lake; there, though she would once more encounter the horrors of war, she would surely find her own people.

So she ran directly down the hill, always watching sharply to see if she could not distinguish one of the Alemanni on her way. But the men whom she met were not Alemanni; they were Romans, and lay dead or dying on the earth. Once she was startled by a horse that dashed across her path; trembling, she hid herself behind a clump of bushes; but the steed bore no rider. Two, four, six masterless animals followed the first, but neither Romans nor Alemanni, who might have threatened or protected her, were visible far or near: flight and pursuit had long since swept down to the lake. A furious struggle was still raging below.

She was forced to stop a moment, her heart was beating so violently. Looking back from the bushes, she saw a dark figure, now plainly visible in the light of morning, still swiftly chasing her; nay, it seemed as though, behind the first, a second pursuer had rushed from the camp or risen from the ground.

Again she ran forward, confidently hoping to reach her people by the lake before she was overtaken; for the child of the forest was skilled in running and had a considerable start. But, after a few steps, fresh terror seized her: she again heard, this time directly behind her, the hoofbeats of a horse. At first she hoped it was another riderless charger, but it followed directly upon her track, and she now heard, in the language of the foe, all sorts of cries urging the animal on. A frightful thought darted through her brain. At any cost, she must turn to see whether--

Yes, her fears were verified. Herculanus had caught one of the horses that crossed his path, thrown himself upon it, and was now pursuing the girl, who was using the last remnant of her strength to fly. She distinctly heard the heavy feet splash through the marshy pools of the meadow land; heard, alas! louder and louder, therefore nearer and nearer, the fierce shouts of the rider and the trampling of hoofs winged by his excitement. The space which separated them grew shorter and shorter very rapidly. Mortal terror overwhelmed Bissula; she remembered how the cruel Roman had tried to kill her in the forest hut like an animal slain for sacrifice.

In this approach of death one name, one only sprang to her lips. "Adalo!" she shrieked, "Adalo! Help, save me, save Bissula!"

Vain appeal! No human being was visible far or near. No answer came.

There was no fighting on the strip of shore toward which she was running, only far out on the lake blazing Roman galleys were floating, pursued by the little boats of the Alemanni.

The terrible horse was already very near. She could hear the snorting of the animal as it was urged forward with blows of the heels, shaking of the bridle, and shouts, to more and more frantic speed. Then--oh, rescue!--she saw in the gray light of morning, close to the shore, hidden among the rushes, two boats of the Alemanni side by side. Those were certainly no Roman vessels: there was neither triangular sail nor lofty prow. Bissula even fancied that she distinguished on one the sixteen-branched antlers, Adalo's house-mark. Yes, yes, there it was; it was his fishing boat, and several men were bending to the oars. She called loudly several times: "Help, Alemanni, help for Bissula!"

Oh, joy! They had heard her voice. The men were rowing with all their might; both boats were flying toward the shore to meet her. And then, more joy: she heard behind her a loud cry and a dull, heavy fall with a splashing noise. She could not help looking back.

Yes, the horse, urged beyond its strength by the pitiless rider, had fallen; it lay on its side, lashing out savagely with its hoofs. But alas! Bissula had rejoiced too soon. The rider had sprung up unhurt and was now running toward her--only a few steps away, brandishing his dagger. The second pursuer appeared from behind the horse. And the boat was still several ship's lengths out upon the lake. Without hesitation the girl leaped into the water, waded as long as she could touch the bottom, then with a strong push from the ground, spread out her powerful white arms, well practised in the art, and swam toward the nearest boat.

No girl on the northern shore excelled Bissula in swimming; but the long flowing folds of her robe hampered her, winding about her feet as soon as they were wet and preventing her from aiding the strokes of her arms with those of the lower limbs. And, horror! splashes behind her announced that her pursuer, or two of them, had followed her into the lake, for she thought she twice heard a plunge or a heavy fall. This fear paralyzed the last remnant of her strength; her arms also refused to obey her will; she sank with her face low in the water.

Once more she raised herself from it; then she felt her pursuer seize her long robe and drag her toward the land; but at the same instant his grasp relaxed; a shrill death-cry fell upon her ear, followed by a low, angry growl. Turning her head, she saw Herculanus sinking in the arms of a huge blackish-brown beast.

"Bruna!" she called again; then her senses seemed to fail. There was a strange roaring in her ears; the water filled her nose, mouth, and ears, and she sank.

Just at that moment four strong arms seized her by the shoulders, and the white hands flung high out of the waves for the last time. With great, but tender strength she was lifted into the boat. Then she opened her eyes: Ausonius and Saturninus stood before her. She shrieked aloud in the anguish of the keenest disappointment; her eyelids closed, her senses failed, and faintness overwhelmed her.