A slender bluish flame, burning in a marble vessel supported by a bronze pedestal of exquisite Corinthian workmanship, diffused both light and perfume through the Prefect's sumptuously furnished and richly decorated tent. Ausonius was lying on the low couch: before him stood the Tribune. Prosper, the old freedman, was pushing forward the citrus wood dining-table, which ran on rollers.

Herculanus entered, greeted all present pleasantly and took his place on the second couch, opposite to Ausonius. "Where is Davus?" he asked the freedman impatiently. "I am thirsty!"

"He ought to have been here long ago," replied Prosper. "He often wanders about needlessly, nobody knows where. You must have him put in the block again, patronus."

"What," cried Ausonius laughing, "have you actually dragged the block here, you rigid slave-overseer, all the way from Vindonissa?"

"Three fine ones, patronus. If you take bad slaves with you, I must take good blocks."

Saturninus was about to go: "The business of the service is over for to-day, Prefect. Perhaps Nannienus may arrive with the galleys to-morrow. He sent a swift galley across the lake to-day: he will arrive very soon. Then, at last, we can begin our work without delay. But," he added in a kindly tone, advancing a step nearer to the lectus, "Will you permit me to utter a word of warning. Prefect PrÆtor of Gaul? Yesterday, and to-day still more, you complained of illness; chills followed by short attacks of fever: will you not remain here in the camp to-morrow (Bissula shall nurse you), instead of marching with us into the swampy forests? I fear you already have the marsh fever."

Just at that moment Davus entered, bringing the beautiful mixing-vessel, filled, and several empty goblets.

"Davus, you lazy hound!" shouted Herculanus. "Quick! I am thirsty! Wine!"

But Saturninus, bending anxiously over the reclining figure, went on: "Acid old CÆcubian is said to be a good remedy for this fever. May I send you some from my store, Prefect?"

But Ausonius still remained silent. Contradictory feelings had been struggling for mastery in his soul since the Illyrian's last words. On the one hand his resentment was very vehement against the obstinate soldier who, for some incomprehensible whim, opposed the dearest wish of his heart. But even during these days of constraint Saturninus had treated him so respectfully, while he himself had been very harsh to his old friend. And he loved the gallant General so warmly! And now this touching, unfeigned solicitude for his health conquered the kind heart of Ausonius.

"Saturninus! Your affection does me good. My nephew thinks only of one disease--his own thirst! The business of the service, Tribune, is probably over; but I entreat you to stay as my guest. Let us forget what briefly estranged us, and remember our beautiful old friendship."

Saturninus quickly grasped the outstretched hand and pressed it warmly: "There your heart spoke, Ausonius! I thank you. I will stay gladly." He took his place on the third lectus, which was at the rear of the tent opposite to the entrance and at the right of the two others. "You ought to have known long ago that my sole wish is your welfare, your real happiness."

Just at that moment Davus came from the table beside the entrance, where the wine was poured, toward his master. He walked very slowly, for he carried three goblets, all filled: two small ones on a silver salver in his right hand, and the large imperial beaker in his left. With his face turned to the entrance and his back to Saturninus, he had poured the wine from the small amphora at the table and then added spring water from the mixing-vessel.

Herculanus hastily started up, snatched one of the goblets from the salver and emptied it at one draught. His uncle cast a look of disapproval at him, saying, "Could you not wait for my toast?" Then he took the Emperor's goblet with the three graces. Davus carried the last cup to the Illyrian and set the silver salver on the table.

"The first draught," said Ausonius, "is usually to the noble Emperor, to whom I owe this beautiful gift. But to-day Gratianus may wait; to-day I drink first to our friendship, my Saturninus!"

"And all that your heart most ardently desires," added the latter smiling.

Ausonius raised the goblet.

Just at that moment the curtain at the door of the tent was dragged violently back from the outside: Bissula, her face corpselike in its pallor, her hair fluttering wildly around her, and blood streaming from her bare right arm, rushed in, shrieking:

"Poison! Do not drink, Ausonius!" She fell forward headlong on the Prefect's couch.

Herculanus sprang up with the speed of lightning, to snatch the cup from his uncle's hand and pour its contents on the ground. But, before he reached him, the Tribune, who had dropped his own goblet, clutched him with a grasp of iron. In spite of his violent struggles, Herculanus could not move forward an inch. Davus, the old freedman running at his heels, darted toward the entrance. Prosper shouted loudly, but Davus went no farther than the door; for here he encountered the Batavian, Rignomer, who seized him by the throat and held him fast.

Ausonius, horrified and bewildered, had set the goblet on the table before him, and now raised Bissula's head. "Poison?" he asked sorrowfully. "Poison me? Who?"

"The dog of a slave, of course!" cried Herculanus, struggling furiously in the Illyrian's hold. "Are you in league with Davus, Tribune? Why do you prevent me from punishing the scoundrel?" And now he actually succeeded in releasing his right hand and gripping the dagger in his belt.

"Don't let him go," shrieked Bissula, who had now recovered her senses. "He is the instigator!"

Just at that moment, summoned by Prosper, who had rushed out screaming for help, two Thracians on guard before the Prefect's tent, and two Illyrians who chanced to be passing, came in and, by the Tribune's orders, seized Herculanus and the slave, who, pale and trembling, could scarcely stand.

Ausonius, groaning aloud, sank back on his pillows.