"But"--the speaker suddenly started--"who is the other at his right,--the one on the dun horse? I almost shrank when I met his eye. He looks like the youth, only he is much older. Who is _he_?" "That is his brother Gelimer; God bless his noble head!" "Aha, so he is the hero of the day? I have often heard his name at home in Syracuse. So he is the conqueror of the Moors?" "Yes, he has defeated them again, the torments. Do you hear how the Carthaginians are cheering him? We citizens, too, must thank him for having driven the robbers away from our villages and fields back to their deserts." "I suppose he is fifty years old? His hair is very gray." "He is not yet forty!" "Just look, Eugenes! He has sprung from his horse. What is he doing?" "Didn't you see? A child, a Roman boy, fell while trying to run in front of his charger. He lifted him up, and is seeking to find out whether he was hurt." "The child wasn't harmed; it is smiling at him and seizing his glittering necklet. There--he is unfastening the chain and putting it into the little fellow's hands. He kisses him and gives him back to his mother. Hark, how the crowd is cheering him! Now he has leaped back into the saddle. He knows how to win favor." "There you wrong him. It is his nature. He would have done the same where no eye beheld him. And he need not win the favor of the people: he has long possessed it." "Among the Vandals?" "Among the Romans, too; that is, the middle and lower classes. The senators, it is true, are different! Those who still live in Africa hate all who bear the name of Vandal; they have good reason for it, too. But Gelimer has a heart to feel for us; he helps wherever he can, and often opposes his own people; they are almost all violent, prone to sudden anger, and in their rage savagely cruel. I above all others have cause to thank him." "You? Why?" "You saw Eugenia, my daughter, before we left our house?" "Certainly. Into what a lovely girl the frail child whom you brought from Syracuse a few years ago has blossomed!" "I owe her life, her honor, to Gelimer. Thrasaric, the giant, the most turbulent of all the nobles, snatched her from my side here in the open street at noonday, and carried the shrieking girl away in his arms. I could not follow as swiftly as he ran. Gelimer, attracted by our screams, rushed up, and, as the savage would not release her, struck him down with a single blow and gave my terrified child back to me." "And the ravisher?" "He rose, laughed, shook himself, and said to Gelimer: 'You did right, Asding, and your fist is heavy.' And then since--" "Well? You hesitate." "Yes, just think of it; since then the Vandal, as he could not gain her by force, is suing modestly for my daughter's hand. He, the richest noble of his nation, wishes to become my son-in-law." "Why, that is no bad outlook."