Dada had already observed a broad scar which marked the soldier’s brow as high up as she could see it for the helmet, and she broke in: 

“How can you men like to slash and kill each other?  Just think, if that cut had been only a finger’s breadth lower—­you would have lost your eyes, and oh! it is better to be dead than blind.  When all the world is bright not to be able to see it; what must that be!  The whole earth in darkness so that you see nothing—­no one; neither the sky, nor the lake, nor the boat, nor even me.”

“That would indeed be a pity,” said the prefect with a laugh and a shrug.

“A pity!” exclaimed Dada.  “As if it were nothing at all!  I should find something else to say than that.  It gives me a shudder only to think of being blind.  How dreadfully dull life can be with one’s eyes open! so what must it be when they are of no use and one cannot even look about one.  Do you know that you have done me not one service only, but two at once?”

“I?” said the officer.

“Yes, you.  But the second is not yet complete.  Sit down awhile, I beg—­ there is a seat.  You know it is a fatal omen if a visitor does not sit down before he leaves.—­That is well.—­And now, may I ask you:  do you take off your helmet when you go into battle?  No.—­Then how could a swordcut hurt your forehead?”

“In a hand to hand scuffle,” said the young man, “everything gets out of place.  One man knocked my helmet off and another gave me this cut in my face.”

“Where did it happen?”

“On the Savus, where we defeated Maximus.”

“And had you this same helmet on?”

“Certainly.”

“Oh! pray let me look at it!  I can still see the dent in the metal; how heavy such a thing must be to wear!”

Constantine took off his helmet with resigned politeness and put it into her hands.  She weighed it, thought it fearfully heavy, and then lifted it up to put it on her own fair curls; but this did not seem to please her new acquaintance, and saying rather shortly:  “Allow me—­” he took it from her, set it on his head and rose.

But Dada pointed eagerly to the seat.

“No, no,” she said, “I have not yet had enough of your second kindness.  I was on the point of death from sheer tedium; then you came, just in time; and if you want to carry out your work of mercy you must tell me something about the battle where you were wounded, and who took care of you afterwards, and whether the women of Pannonia are really as handsome as they are said to be. . .”

“I am sorry to say that I have not time,” interrupted the officer.  “Sachepris here is far better qualified to amuse you than I; some years since, at any rate, she lead a wonderful store of tales.  I wish you a pleasant day!”

And with this farewell greeting, Constantine left the vessel, nor did he once look back at it or its pretty inhabitant as he made his way towards the house of Porphyrius.