The son of Victoria the Great was then in his twenty-third year. I told you, my son, that several medals were struck on which he figured in the guise of the god Mars beside his mother, who wore on her head a casque resembling that of the antique Minerva. Indeed, Victorin could have served as a model for a statue of the god of war. Tall, supple, robust, with a shape at once elegant and martial, he pleased all eyes. His features, imprinted with the rare beauty of his mother's, differed from them by an expression of mirthfulness and daring. The openness and generosity of his character was clearly visible on his face. On seeing him, one forgot, despite himself, the defects that marred that manly being, too vivacious and too fiery to curb the impulses of his age. Victorin doubtlessly came from a night of pleasure; yet his face looked as fresh as if he had just left his bed. A felt coif, ornamented with a little brooch, half covered his black hair, that fell in luxuriant ringlets around his virile and browned face. His Gallic blouse, made of silken fabric striped white and purple, was held around his waist by a silver-embroidered leather belt, from which hung his curiously chiseled gold hilted sword--a veritable masterpiece of Autun goldsmithing. Upon entering his mother's room followed by Captain Marion, Victorin proceeded straight to her with a mixture of tenderness and respect. He dropped upon one knee, took and kissed one of her hands, removed his head-cover, and, reaching up his forehead for her to kiss, said: "Greeting to my mother!" There was so touching a charm in the young general's features and posture, there on his knee before his mother, that I noticed her hesitate for a second between the desire to embrace the son whom she adored and the inclination to express her dissatisfaction with him. She gently pushed Victorin's head back with her hand, and said in a grave voice while pointing at the cradle that stood near: "Embrace your son--you have not seen him since yesterday." The young general understood the indirect reproach; he rose sadly, approached the cradle, took up the child in his arms, and embraced him effusively while his eyes wandered over to his mother, as if to tell her that he was indemnifying himself for her maternal severity. Captain Marion had drawn close to me and said in a low voice: "After all, Victorin has a good heart. How he does love his mother! How he cherishes his child! He surely is as much attached to them as I am to my friend Eustace, who constitutes my whole family. What a pity that that pest of profligacy" (the good captain hardly ever spoke without throwing in those words) "so frequently has the young man fast in its claws!" "It is a misfortune! But do you believe Victorin capable of the infamous act that he is charged with in camp?" I inquired from the captain loud enough to be heard by Tetrik, who, speaking with Victoria in a low voice, seemed to be reproaching her for her severity towards her son.