He raised the curtain and strode in his clanking armor out into the darkness; he could not help thinking constantly of the beautiful wood-nymph. Herculanus also took his leave, but he was scarcely outside the tent when he shook his clenched fist threateningly toward the east, muttering through his set teeth: "Wait, Barbarian witch!" But Ausonius stretched himself on his camp bed, put out the light, and murmured: "Sleep peacefully, my Bissula, wherever you may be; to-morrow perhaps I shall once more see those never-to-be-forgotten eyes." CHAPTER XIV. At daybreak the tuba sounded through the Roman camp, summoning to departure the bands who were to share the expedition. "Where is my nephew?" asked Ausonius, mounting the beautiful gray Cantabrian stallion, whose stirrup was held by old Prosper. "He is usually the first at my bedside to greet me." "He hastened on with his mailed riders long ago. He started even before the Tribune." "What zeal! I like that," said the uncle, patting the neck of his noble steed. "At home in Burdigala he devoted his time solely to--" "To spending your money, O patron!" growled the old man. "Pshaw, never mind, graybeard! My money--it will soon be his money." "May the Olympians--forgive me, the saints--forbid!" "Put no restraint on yourself on my account. I prefer them too. They have the advantage of suiting the metre better, at least most of them. Where is Saturninus?" "Gone already. He left word that you might follow: you could not miss the way. See, there are the helmets of the last men in his rear-guard. His countryman Decius commands them." "I see. Forward! How beautifully the morning light smiles upon us. Help me, unconquered sun-god!" He put spurs to his horse and, followed by a brilliant train of mounted men, dashed down the hill and through the Porta Principalis Dextra eastward, toward the sun. A guide had sought the best path at the earliest dawn, marking it by placing at certain spaces small stones carried in bags by the pioneers who accompanied and watched him. The Prefect of Gaul soon reached the path trodden by Adalo a few days before, which led to Suomar's lonely forest dwelling. With a throbbing heart he recognized the familiar spot: the little hill, the broad-branched oak, the neighboring spring: nothing had changed in the few years, except that another piece of tilled land had been wrested by fire from the primeval forest.