It was known that I kept aloof from women, and she may have desired to see what I should do when an Augusta kissed me, and then to make a mock of me.

I had heard that she had done as much with others.
Well, let that be, since Stauracius, who always feared lest a new favourite should slip between him and power, had settled the matter for me, for which I blessed Stauracius, although at the moment, being but a man, I had cursed him.

And now why did Martina--the little, dark Martina with the kind face and the watchful, beady eyes, like to those of a robin in our northern lands--speak as she had done, and then burst into tears?
A doubt struck me, but I, who was never vain, pushed it aside.

I did not understand, and of what use was it to try to interpret the meaning of the moods of women?
My business was war, or, at the moment, the service that has to do with war, not women.

Wars had brought me to the rank I held, though, strangely enough, of those wars I can recall nothing now; they have vanished from my vision.