by Felix Dahn
CHAPTER XXIII.
V. BEFORE THE KALENDS OF SEPTEMBER.
Ausonius sends greetings to his Paulus.
I wrote to you yesterday about the charming Barbarian child. Child? Sheis one no longer. The delicate, yet lovely outlines of her form havedeveloped into exquisite roundness. And Barbarian? If she ever was oneshe has ceased to be so, since Ausonius taught her the pomp of theLatin language. How shall I describe her to you without drawing, no,painting her? For it is precisely the charm of her coloring that is sopeerless. If only I had brought with me Paralos, my Ionian slave, whopainted the nymphs so exquisitely--you know--in my little dining hallyonder, in the villa in the Province Noverus! And the expression--thevivacity--in those ever varying features, now full of mischievouswrath, now mirth, now jest, and anon of a sorrowful yearning which tome is full of mystery.
And the dainty figure! Recently her leather sandals stuck fast in themire outside the camp ditch. How white and charming were the littlefeet! How can they even support the figure, lightly as it floats along?The muse which so long has shunned me has again returned in the form ofthis Suabian girl: a fairer metamorphosis than ever Ovid dreamed.Verses well up in my mind ceaselessly. Just listen!
"Nature had dowered Bissula with charms which the greatest of artists Vainly to picture would strive. Doubtless to full many another Justice he might do by use of the pigments of red and of white lead: Coloring like hers, alas! will forever escape him, unless he should paint Her face with a lily's lustre, on which the breath of a rose hath rested."
Ah, my friend, with the feelings that come to me, I am often ashamed ofthe half century I bear with me. Fain would I sacrifice something toAnteros--most willingly my gray hairs!
A short time ago the little maid amazed us all (Saturninus was evenmore surprised than I; for I am already beginning to believe her almostsupernatural) by showing strategic insight. It was mentioned that whilemaking a tour on the southwestern wall I had saved her little hut fromburning, while our cohorts usually flung the torch with eager zeal intothe wooden houses of the Barbarians. Then Saturninus remarked that byaccident another building had been spared, a house with a lofty gableroof rising on a hill farther toward the southwest. None of ourreconnoitring parties had marched in that direction. My nephew calledone of his men and ordered two of them to ride over the next day andburn the dwelling down.
Suddenly the girl, with flashing eyes, cried: "How stupid!" andlaughed. Courtesy is not her favorite virtue, and she and my nephewwaste little love on each other. "How stupid!" she repeated, "Thebuilding is very solid, the fence inclosing it very high; it is almosta citadel like your camp here; and it is between you and the lake--towhich you must fly if my people come. You could fortify yourselvesthere again, if you are forced to leave here as the fox darts from itsburrow."
Herculanus laughed sneeringly; but Saturninus cast a glance from thetop of the wall to that hill and the lofty building, and said in thequiet tone which quells contradiction: "I myself had resolved to havethe dwelling burned to-morrow. But the child is right. The solid housewill not be burned, but perhaps, later, occupied--when the shipsarrive."
If those ships would only come! The eager Tribune is fairly consumedwith impatience for action. Already he has gone across the lakerepeatedly in a wretched rotting boat belonging to the Barbarians,which we found hidden among the thickest growth of rushes nearBissula's hut, and urged Nannienus to hasten. But the latter mighttruthfully say with Homer: "Why dost thou urge one who is willing?" Wecannot make up in days for the neglect of months. The Emperor's ownmiserable officials do him more harm than the Barbarians. And we do noteven know where these strange defenders of the country have vanished.
Ah, that reminds me of another anecdote of the little maid. Howconstantly she steals into my thoughts! Of course--in jest andearnest--we have tried to obtain information about the hiding--placesof the enemy from the only captive of whose possession hitherto we canboast; but there we "victors" met with small success, as you may guess.
"Where are your heroes hiding?" I asked once laughing, toward the endof a meal in my tent. "Truly, their heroism is as hard to find asthemselves."
"They will hardly have told this little maid," replied Saturninus. "ForBarbarian women can probably keep secrets no better than Roman ones.She does not know."
"Yes, she does!" cried the rogue, pouting defiantly.
"Indeed? Then we'll question you," I cried, "on the rack."
"That isn't necessary. I am willing to tell."
"Well, where are they?" asked the Tribune seriously.
She glided out of the tent, thrust her head saucily through theopening, and laughed mischievously: "They dwell with Odin and the nixiein the lake. Search for them there yourself!" And she vanished.
Her favorite resting-place is at the foot of a huge pine-tree; it issacred, dedicated to a German goddess who, according to thedescription, probably corresponds with Isis. I have repeatedly foundher there. Once she was swinging among the branches like a little bird.She begged me not to betray her hiding-place to the others--the Tribuneand my nephew. She often liked to dream there all alone. Well, Icertainly shall not betray her. If _I_ know where to look for her, theothers shall not find her against her will.
IV. BEFORE THE KALENDS OF SEPTEMBER.
I regretted the artist's absence a short time since, and cannot get himto come here. But perhaps Bissula will go later to the artist, toBurdigala. How I wished it long ago! Oh, Paulus, if only I could showher to you! The more I write of her and think of her, the more shepleases me. Or perhaps the contrary is the case. I will write and thinkof her no more.
* * * * *
You will not believe, my dear friend, how much I enjoy the militarylife I have not witnessed for so long. I understand little about it,but the pomp and pride and power of war stir me very strongly.
It is a pleasure to see the rule of a man like Saturninus. He cannotscan a verse of Alcaeus, but he knows how to arrange a camp according tothe demands and advantages of the location, better than I can write anAlcaean strophe. Here, on this steep hillside in the midst of theBarbarian forests, he had applied Frontinus's rules to the given spacemost admirably. It would please an old soldier like you to see ourcamp, the strength of wall and moat, the arrangement of the spacesbetween the tents, the distribution of horse and foot-soldiers,luggage, and camp followers.
III. BEFORE THE KALENDS OF SEPTEMBER.
And why should you not see it? For what purpose has Athene or theclever Ph[oe]nicians taught us the art of writing? I begged Saturninusto dictate to his fat slave scribe a sketch of our whole camp, with allthe points important for defence and the distribution of our troops. Iwill put it on the papyrus.
How stately is the entrance! Four squadrons of mailed warriors at thePorta Decumana, and all the baggage also piled up there. The wall eightfeet high; the ditch five feet deep. The weakest point is the northwestcorner, so the best troops are there: Batavian and spearmen of theEmperor's Thracian Guard: etc.
I will not repeat here in detail what the inclosure will contain; butthe paper is not yet finished. He has taken it away to make the drawingmore accurate.
II. BEFORE THE KALENDS OF SEPTEMBER.
Ah, what avails dissimulation, playing hide and seek with myself? Ifyou drive her out with a pitchfork, Nature will always return, says theBandusian fellow. I am trying to make you--and myself--believe that mythoughts are on ditch and wall and mailed soldiers. It is not true. Ithink only of the little maid. Her image alone hovers before my eyesday and night. It is already half decided that you shall see her.
When this expedition is over, I at any rate shall return to Gaul,perhaps the whole army; for the Emperor Valens seems to be able to dealwith the Goths without needing our aid; he does not ask for us. Then Ican take the little maid as my guest for a short visit to Burdigala.
True, she is still consid
ered the Tribune's slave. It is an oddcaprice of the valiant soldier. No, no, my Paulus! It is not what yousuppose that influences him. I have watched him suspiciously, almostjealously, as sharply as a father--or can it be a lover? But I did himinjustice--or too much honor? He has nothing in his head except thoseinvisible Alemanni and our ships, still delayed at Arbor.
* * * * *
Yet why only for a visit? Why should she not remain in my house alwaysto beautify my advancing years with the roseate dawn of her youth?
Yes. Eos, Aurora: it is a fitting symbol for her. So young, so full ofthe dewy freshness of the morning, with her ruddy curling locksfloating saucily around her.
Perhaps, now that she has grown more sensible, she will joyfully acceptthe offer I made when she was a child: to go with me as my adopteddaughter.--Daughter? That is not the right word; no longer the rightword: she has blossomed into womanhood: I should not think of liftingher on my knee, as I did years ago. She has become too mature.
And I am still too young to regard her only as a daughter.--Rather as abrother, her loving brother who rejoices in her beauty. No, it will notdo.
A short time ago her round arm brushed me (the German women go withbare arms); a fiery thrill darted through my veins. I can scarcelydoubt it, I---
My feelings for her do not concern other people. I might at any ratefirst take her with me--and then adopt her? No matter what the legalform may be, I am determined to keep her near me always.
I can no longer do without her charming presence; everything would growdark and cold. Already I shiver at the thought of again living alonewith the icy-hearted Herculanus.
She has become my muse! A barbarian one, do you scoff? Aha, are theselines so barbaric?
"Incarnate joy! Caressing bliss! O thou embodiment of sportive grace! How the Barbarian maid the fair ones of Latium hath vanquished! Bissula! Plebeian her name may sound in the ears of aliens: But to Ausonius it echoes with harmonies sweet and bewitching."
