"Your lot it may be," answers Aulus, "to perform some daring deed,
here in our Jewish campaign; and on your return to Rome you may
receive a great reward from the hand of Tiberius."

"In my mind this has been," replies Quintus; "before I left Rome I
had an audience with our divine Caesar, and he was pleased to say
that my fidelity here might bring me special recompense. Yet would
that be satisfying? I have seen the triumphal processions in the
streets of Rome, when heroes have been acclaimed; I have heard our
statesmen in the Senate hall, and prize the joys of oratory; I have
been served all my days by slaves in my father's palace, and know
the sweetness of the Falernian wine in the banquet room. A
proconsulate, if I might come to that dignity, would be a high
honor to write in my life story. But, my dear Aulus, would there
be content in this? My restless soul seems crying out for some
better gift from the gods."

"It cannot be," continues Aulus. "that your heart's love is
involved. When our military movements bring the Roman knights to
Palaestina, in their pride of birth they do not wed the black-eyed
daughters of the Jews. On your earlier expedition to Egypt you met
a princess of the land, but were not let to espouse that swarthy
maiden of the Nile. The reward of love cannot be the experience of
which the augur spoke at Brundisium."

"Not so," says Quintus in response; "as I was leaving Rome, it was
the beautiful Lucretia who sent me forth with her rare farewell.
For my return from Palaestina she is now waiting; and under the
blue skies of Italia we are to wed. I have been wondering,"
Quintus adds further, "if the augur, watching the flight of birds