At the fence which inclosed the court-yard he sprang from his horse; he had ordered his escort to halt at the oak-tree. The blood suffused his face, so intense was his anxiety. The narrow gate in the palisade stood ajar. Entering the yard, he uttered a cry of joyful astonishment: a little flower garden had been laid out beside the door of the house; he recognized with emotion in the gay blossoms, now in the full bloom of summer, the seeds and slips which he had given the child in Arbor, nay, even ordered from Gaul. Italian and Gallic flowers and shrubs, evidently tended by loving hands, splendid roses and evergreen yews greeted him in thick beds, and also small fruit-trees. Pontine cherries, Picentinian apples, Aquitanian pears, had grown as high as the door. "Yes, yes," said Ausonius, smiling, "how everything has grown and blossomed in five years!" Then something whirred over his head; from openings in the stable-roof a whole flock of dainty little blue-gray doves flew across the garden to the neighboring field of oats. "See," cried Ausonius, looking after them. "My Lycian rock-doves from Burdigala! How that one pair has multiplied!" He hesitated to enter the house. Doubtless he told himself that the hope of finding her he sought was faint, nay futile. But here everything seemed to bear witness to her presence; there on the bench before the dwelling lay--he knew them well--the delicate garden shears which he had sent to her from Vindonissa. He did not wish to cross the threshold and rob himself of every hope. The clank of armor came from the open door: a centurion belonging to Herculanus's troop approached, bowing respectfully. "Everything is empty, _vir illuster_, the Tribune sends word. And we are to ask you--we are burning all the Barbarians' houses--whether this too--" "Let it remain uninjured." The man nodded with a look of pleasure. "I am glad to obey the order. It would have been a hard task to destroy this home. Umbrian roses, Picentinian mallows, like those which grow around my parents' house in Spoletium, in the midst of the Barbarians' marshes! Who can have wrought this miracle?" "A poet," replied Ausonius, smiling, "and the fourth, the youngest, of the Graces. So Saturninus was here himself?" "Yes, but even before him your nephew, with me. Herculanus searched everywhere carefully, nay, greedily. He forbade my accompanying him. I was obliged to wait at the entrance." "The good fellow! He wanted to bring her to me himself, to surprise me--" "Directly after Herculanus left, Saturninus dashed up." "Where did the troop go from here?" "Yonder into the forest, keeping to the left, steadily to the left, away from the lake. Otherwise horses and men would sink in the morass. You will find sentinels posted in the woods every three hundred paces. I, with three men, form the commencement of the chain here." "See that the yard and garden are not injured. I'll promise in return a jug of the best wine."