They are pale, but very still.
Not a sound of pity escapes their white lips; their ambiguous eyes watch calmly for the issue of the strife.
'And on the further side, at the edge of the grove stand country folk, men in goatskin tunics and leathern hats like the boy's father.

And the little goatherd, not knowing what he does, calls to them for help in his shrill voice.

But no one heeds; and the priest himself calls no one, entreats no one.
'Ah! The priest wavers--he falls--his white robes are in the dust.

The bright steel rises--descends:--the last groan speeds to heaven.
* * * * * 'The victor raised himself from the dead, all stained with the blood and soil of the battle.

Quintus gazed upon him astonished.