"Yes," answered the veteran, "yes--in that lay the wrong that we did. So that we each did wrong--you and we. We have come to notify you that we are ready to forget the past, and that our hearts remain loyal to you. We wish you, in turn, to forgive us, so that we may love you and you us as in the past. Is it agreed, Victorin?" "Yes," answered Victorin, deeply moved by the veteran's loyal and touching words; "it is agreed." "Your hand!" replied Douarnek, "in the name of our comrades." "Here it is," said the young general, stooping down over his horse's neck in order cordially to clasp the veteran's hand. "I thank you for your frankness, my children. I shall be to you as you are to me for the glory and peace of Gaul. Without you I can do nothing; although it is the general who carries the triumphal chaplet, it is the soldier's bravery that weaves it, and imparts to it the purple of his own blood!" "It is, then, agreed, Victorin," Douarnek replied with moistening eyes. "Our blood belongs to you, to the last drop--and to our beloved Gaul--to your glory!" "And to my mother who made me what I am," interrupted Victorin with increasing emotion; "and to my mother our respect, our love, our devotion, my children!" "Long live the Mother of the Camps!" cried Douarnek in a resonant voice. "Long live Victorin, her glorious son!" Douarnek's companions, the rest of the soldiers and officers, in short, all of us present at this scene joined in the cheers of Douarnek: "Long live the Mother of the Camps! Long live Victorin, her glorious son!" The whole army thereupon set itself in march back to the camp while, under the protection of a legion that was ordered to watch our prisoners, the medical druids and their aides remained on the field of battle to gather the dead, and tend the wounded, both Frank and Gallic. It was a superb summer's night, that in which the army struck the road to Mayence. As it marched, the banks of the Rhine re-echoed to the chant of the bard: "This morning we say:-- 'How many are there of these barbarous hordes, Who thievishly aspire to rob us of land, Of homes, of wires and of sunshine? Yes, how many are there of these Franks?' "This evening we'll say:-- 'Make answer, thou sod, red drenched In the blood of the stranger; Make answer, ye deep-rolling waves of the Rhine; Make answer, ye crows that flutter for carrion, Make answer--make answer! How many were they, These robbers of land, of homes, of wives and of sunshine? Aye, how many were there, Of these blood-thirsty, ravenous Franks?'" CHAPTER XIV. THE HOMEWARD RIDE. In his haste to inform his mother of our splendid victory, Victorin passed the command of the troops to one of the oldest chiefs. We changed our tired horses for two fresh ones which were always led by the reins ready for Victorin's use, and he and I rode rapidly towards Mayence.