"Your speech is sooth, Schanvoch; I saw him just as cool and collected at the great battle of Offenbach--one of his finest, one of his most fruitful victories. It was that victory that restored to us the Rhine for our frontier. It drove the accursed Franks to the other bank of the river." "And to-day's battle will supplement the victory won at Offenbach, if, as I expect we shall, we drive off the barbarians for all time from our frontier." "Brother," replied my foster-sister, "as always, you will not leave Victorin's side?" "I promise you." "He is now calm. But once the action is engaged, I fear the ardor of his blood, and his passion for battle. You know, Schanvoch, I do not fear peril for Victorin, I am the daughter, wife and mother of soldiers; all I fear is that, carried away by the heat of action, and anxious, even at the risk of his life, to achieve great deeds, he put the success of this day in jeopardy, and by his death endanger the safety of Gaul, that may otherwise be firmly established by to-day's action." "I shall use my full powers to convince Victorin that a general must preserve himself for his army." "Schanvoch," my foster-sister remarked with a tremulous voice, "you always are the best of brothers!" And looking towards her son, evidently anxious that none but myself be made aware of the anxious thoughts that struggled in her maternal breast, and her doubts concerning the firmness of his character, she added again, in a low voice: "You will watch over him?" "As over my own son." After the young general issued his last orders, he alighted from his horse the moment he saw his mother, walked over to where she was, and said: "The hour has come, mother. I have taken with the other captains the last dispositions on the plan of battle that I submitted to you and which you approved. I have reserved ten thousand men under the command of Robert, one of the most experienced chiefs, for the protection of the camp. He is to receive orders from you. May the gods look down favorably upon our arms. Adieu, mother. I shall do my best--" Saying this he bent his knee. "Adieu, my son. Come not back, unless you come back victorious over the barbarians!" As she said these words, the Mother of the Camps stooped down from her horse and reached her hand to Victorin, who kissed it and rose. "Be brave, my young Caesar!" the Governor of Gascony called out to my foster-sister's son. "The fate of Gaul is in your hands--and, thanks to the gods, your hands are powerful. Furnish me the opportunity to write an ode on this fresh victory."