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"The trout."
"'Then the trout, its back besprinkled with tiny crimson stars.'
"That's what I call a fine line."
"The grayling."
"'And the swift grayling, escaping from the eye with rapid leaps!'"
"Yes, but not as you describe them, alive in the Mosella--there is nothing I enjoy eating more than a fine fis.h.!.+ No, I saw them before me on silver dishes, baked, broiled, and in dainty stews; and in my dream I tasted them all. When I woke, I licked my lips and blessed Ausonius: no poet has ever given me so much pleasure."
He laughed and drained his goblet.
CHAPTER X.
"I am generous," replied Ausonius. "It pleases me to discover in this way a favorite dish of my usually Spartan friend. I will avenge myself by placing before you, if possible, the delicious fish this lake contains; for in its green depths are balche and trout of the most delicate flavor. They are even better than those of the Mosella: I could surely have supplied you with them if the Barbarians had not all fled from the sh.o.r.e before our troops. When, five years ago, I spent several months on the opposite side in Arbor Felix, to investigate the condition of the frontiers, what magnificent fish I had!" Then, as if lost in reverie, he sighed: "Ah, those were happy days! My dear wife, my gentle Sabina, was living."
"Hail to thy memory, Attusia Lucana Sabina!" said the nephew.
"And my dear children! Then my beautiful, s.p.a.cious house in the city, and the charming villa outside the Garumna gate were not empty and desolate. How gaily the songs of the young girls echoed through the country during the season when the vine blossoms poured forth their fragrance! Then I still saw around me the beloved faces of my kindred, did not stand alone, poor with all my wealth, as now--"
"Uncle!" interrupted Hercula.n.u.s, trying to a.s.sume a tone of most tender reproach, in which, however, he was not entirely successful. "Stand alone? Have you not me, who love you so tenderly?"
The Tribune gazed coldly at the over-zealous nephew.
But Ausonius replied kindly: "Certainly, my dear fellow, you are left to me, but you alone out of the whole circle of my family swept away in a single year by the pestilence: my Sabina, my three children, my two sisters and two sweet young nieces. Can you alone fill the places of all? I often feel so lonely. And you are a man. My gentle wife, my daughters, my sisters, my nieces, how I miss them! I confess it: I need the melody of women's voices, their graceful movements around me. I miss something!"
The young Roman, excited, hastily seized the goblet. The Tribune looked him keenly in the face and, without averting his eyes from the nephew, suddenly said to the uncle in a very loud tone: "You must marry again!"
Then the Illyrian turned away from Hercula.n.u.s: he seemed to have seen enough.
"Yes," said Ausonius slowly, almost solemnly, "I have often thought of it. It is a serious, a very serious matter--at my age."
"At any age," said Saturninus. "Years will not stand in your way. You are perhaps fifty?"
"Fifty-two," sighed the Prefect. "And my hair is gray!"
"Not very yet! Besides, mine is too. In my case from the weight of the helmet. And it is becoming. You are a--"
"Handsome old man, you are going to say," replied Ausonius smiling.
"That is not exactly what pleases maidens."
"Well, you need not choose a girl of sixteen."
"But not one much older!" said the poet quickly. "No, my friend! I want youth and charm near me."
"That you may have too," said the Illyrian. "You can select from your whole province, nay, the whole Empire. You, the highest official in Gaul, the Emperor's tutor and favorite, the celebrated poet and--"
"And the richest match in the whole West," interrupted the nephew sharply. Hitherto he had remained persistently silent, his eyes cast down and the expression of his mouth covered by his hand. "The richest gray beard on this side of the Alps!" he added.
"Yes, that is it," said Ausonius bitterly. "Hercula.n.u.s only says openly and frankly what has secretly tortured me so much all these years, nay, what has alone deterred me. You know, my friend,--or rather, you blunt Tribune of the camp, you do not know,--for what reasons parents in our large cities marry their daughters, nay, how these girls themselves, almost before they have laid aside their dolls, instantly look out for 'a good catch'! In sooth, neither Eros nor Anteros, but Hermes and Plutus unite couples now."
"Yes, they marry only for money!" cried Hercula.n.u.s wrathfully. "I am poor; the girls all shun me--"
The Tribune was about to answer, but only laughed and drank his wine.
"Although I am nearly thirty years younger than my uncle! Fathers, mothers, guardians, nay, even the forward girls themselves, all cajole him, till I can scarcely warn and guard enough."
"That's the way the bee-keeper guards the honey from the mice," growled the Illyrian under his breath.
"My nephew is perfectly right. A friend of mine, Erminiscius, a rich merchant who deals in gems, fifty years old, married a girl of twenty.
A week after, she disappeared with all his antique jewels and--his youngest freedman. Another, Euronius, a large owner of vineyards, somewhat older, married a young widow of twenty-five; that is--he was married by her; for she did not rest until she had him. Even before the wedding he was obliged to make his will; she dictated it to him word for word. He died at the next kalends--violent colic. I did not like it at all; I hate colic! And so many wild cherries grew close by his garden! You ought to see how much this double widow enjoys life now.
She once paid me a visit--she is very beautiful and was bewitchingly amiable to me; but I thought of the dead Euronius's colic, and escaped unwedded. I don't imagine in all cases an elopement or a wild-cherry cake; every one is neither a Helena nor a Locusta. Suspicion is not usually one of my faults."
"Rather the contrary," observed Saturninus.
"But, I confess it, my gray hairs make me distrustful. I should be so unhappy--Apollo's richest laurels would not heal the wound--if I were forced to believe that I had been married only for the sake of my wealth. I do not deserve it."
"No indeed, you do not," cried the Tribune, pressing his hand warmly.
"Your heart is tender, kind, and frank. Whoever feigned love for the sake of your money would be contemptible. And I hope that you may yet see a band of children playing around your knees in the beautiful villa gardens on the flowery sh.o.r.es of your beloved Garumna."
Ausonius smiled. The picture seemed to please him. Then his eye met the glance of his nephew, who seemed to be gazing into the distance less complacently. "Don't be uneasy, Hercula.n.u.s," he said. "Even if it should be so, my will would not forget you. And your creditors," he added, smiling compa.s.sionately.
"Will! What an ill-omened word! Far be it," cried the young Roman.
"Well, people don't die from making wills, or I should have left the living long ago. A Roman citizen sets his house in order for every emergency, death included. So, though Hercula.n.u.s according to the law would now be my sole heir, I made my will before the magistrate in Burdigala before joining the army, formally naming him my heir: a few little legacies and the liberation of some faithful slaves still remain. To you, Saturninus," he added, laughing, "I shall bequeath after my return, in a codicil, a valuable memento of this evening."
"Well?"
"A copy of the 'Mosella'; but the verses about the fish are to be cut out by way of punishment."
He quaffed his wine, pleased with his own jest.
CHAPTER XI.
"You must and will survive me, my n.o.ble friend! The Tribune will soon lie where he belongs: on his s.h.i.+eld. But you still belong to Burdigala, in your tasteful house filled with rare works of art (what hospitality I enjoyed there the last time I was wounded!), or to Rome, in the Senate; not here, in the marshy forests of these Alemanni. Why (you always liked to accompany the Emperor to Vindonissa)--why did you, a man of peace and of leisure, join this military campaign? It has no attraction for you! What have you to obtain on the Barbarian sh.o.r.es of this lake?"
"I? I am seeking for something here," replied Ausonius, after some little hesitation.
"Laurels of Mars to add to those of Apollo?"
"Not at all; only--a memory!"
Hercula.n.u.s cast a sharp glance full of meaning at his uncle.