drunk the
life-blood of the slain, Indelible the spots remain, And aye for
vengeance call.
"Yea," said the Bishop, "such was the universal law given to Noah ere
the parting of the nations--blood for blood! And yet, where should we
be did not Mercy rejoice against Justice, and the Blood of Sprinkling
speak better things than the blood of Abel? Nay, think not that I blame
thee, my dear brother. Thou art the judge of thy people, and well do I
know that one act of stern justice often, as in this instance, prevents
innumerable deeds of senseless violence."
"Moreover," returned the Senator, "it was by the relaxing of the ancient
Roman sternness of discipline and resolution that the horrors of the
Triumvirate began, and that, later on, spirit decayed and brought us to
our present fallen state."
By this time the procession, which had long since passed from their
sight, was beginning to break up and disperse. A flock of little children
first appeared, all of whom went aside to the slaves' quarters except one,
who came running up the path between the box- trees. He was the
eldest grandson and namesake of the Senator, a dark-eyed,
brown-haired boy of seven, with the golden bulla hanging round his
neck. Up he came to the old man's knee, proud to tell how he had
scaled every rock, and never needed any help from the pedagogue slave
who had watched over him.
"Sawest thou any barbarians, my Victorinus?" asked his grandfather.
"They stood thickly about Deodatus's door, and Publius said they were
going to mock; but we looked so bold and sang so loud that they durst
not. And Verronax is come down, papa, with Celer; and Celer wanted
to sing too, but they would not let him, and he was so good that he was
silent the moment his master showed him the leash."
"Then is Celer a hound?" asked the Bishop, amused.
"A hound of the old stock that used to fight battles for Bituitus,"
returned the child. "Oh, papa, I am so hungry."
He really did say 'papa,' the fond domestic name which passed from the
patriarch of the household to the Father of the Roman Church.
"Thy mother is watching for thee. Run to her, and she will give thee a
cake--aye, and a bath before thy dinner. So Verronax is come. I am
glad thou wilt see him, my father. The youth has grown up with my
own children, and is as dear to me as my own son. Ah, here comes my
Columba!"
For the maidens were by this time returning, and Columba, robed in
white, with a black veil, worn mantilla fashion over her raven hair, so
as to shade her soft, liquid, dark eyes, came up the steps, and with a
graceful obeisance to her father and the Bishop, took the seat to which
the former drew her beside them.
"Has all gone well, my little dove?" asked her father.
"Perfectly well so far, my father," she replied; but there was anxiety in
her eyes until the gate again opened and admitted the male contingent
of the procession. No sooner had she seen them safely advancing up the
box avenue than she murmured something about preparing for the meal,
and, desiring a dismissal from her father, disappeared into the women's
apartments, while the old man smiled at her pretty maidenly modesty.
Of the three men who were advancing, one, Marcus AEmilius, about
seven or eight and twenty years of age, was much what the Senator
must have been at his age--sturdy, resolute, with keen eyes, and crisp,
curled, short black hair. His younger brother, Lucius, was taller,
slighter, more delicately made, with the same pensive Italian eyes as
his sister, and a gentle, thoughtful countenance. The tonsure had not yet
touched his soft, dark brown locks; but it was the last time he would
march among the laity, for, both by his own desire and that of his dead
mother, he was destined to the priesthood. Beside these two brothers
came a much taller figure. The Arvernii seem to have been Gael rather
than Cymri, and the mountain chief, Titus Julius Verronax, as the
Romans rendered his name of Fearnagh, was of the purest descent. He
had thick, wavy chestnut hair, not cut so short as that of the Romans,
though kept with the same care. His eyebrows were dark, his eyes, both
in hue and brightness, like a hawk's, his features nobly moulded, and
his tall form, though large and stately, was in perfect symmetry, and
had the free bearing and light springiness befitting a mountaineer. He
wore the toga as an official scarf, but was in his national garb of the
loose trousers and short coat, and the gold torq round his neck
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