He flew towards her with an elastic step, lifted carefully, tenderly, the sleeping child from her arm, and taking the flat straw lid from his tool-basket, he placed the child on it, under the shade of a rose-bush. The evening breeze threw the scented leaves of a full-blown rose on the little one: he smiled in his sleep. Then the master, winding his arm round the waist of his young wife, led her to the just completed entrance-slab, and said: "Now is the proverb ready, which I have kept hidden from thee till I could finish it; now read, and know, and feel"--and he kissed her tenderly on the mouth: "Thou--thou thyself art the happiness; _Thou_ dwellest here." The young wife held her hand before her eyes to protect them from the sun, which now shone in almost horizontal beams through the open gateway; she read and blushed, the colour rose perceptibly in her delicate white cheeks, her bosom heaved, her heart beat quickly: "O Fulvius! thou art good. How thou dost love me! How happy we are!" And she laid her two hands and arms on his right shoulder, on the other her beautiful head. He heartily pressed her to himself. "Yes, overflowing, without shadow is our happiness--without measure or end." Quickly, with a slight trembling, as if shivering, she raised herself, and looked him anxiously in the face: "O, do not provoke the holy ones. It is whispered," said she, herself whispering, "they are envious." And she held her hand before his mouth. But he pressed a loud kiss upon the small fingers, and cried: "I am not jealous, I, a _man_--why should the holy ones be envious? I do not believe that. I do not believe it of the holy ones--nor of the heathen gods, if indeed they still have life and power." "Speak not of them! They certainly live!--but they are bad spirits, and he who names them, he calls them near; thus warns the Presbyter of the Basilica." "I fear them not. They have protected our ancestors for many generations." "Yes, but we have turned away from them! They defend us no longer. Only the saints are our defenders against the barbarians. Alas! if they came here, trampled down the flowers in the garden, and carried away our child." And she knelt down and kissed the little sleeper. But the young father laughed. "The Germans, dost thou mean? they steal no children! They have more than they can feed. But it is true----they may perhaps one day sound out their war-cry before the gates of Juvavum." "Yes, that they may, very soon!" broke in an anxious voice, and the fat Crispus, breathing heavily after his hot walk, entered the garden. "Ave, Phidias in plaster," cried Fulvius to him. "Welcome, uncle," said Felicitas, giving him her hand.