Gleva: I learn my lesson from my Lord Calpurnius. Why should my
teacher blame me if I learn it thoroughly?
Calpurnius: Gleva, you cannot conquer Rome. (_He speaks gently. She
stands stubbornly._) How shall I prove it to you--you who know only
one wild corner of Britain! (_Thinks._) There is that road where the
soldiers march. You know--how much of it?--a few miles where it passes
through the forest. That's all. But it runs to the Wall in the north.
Gleva (_scornfully_): Is there a Wall?
Calpurnius: Is there a Wall? Ye gods! I kept my watch upon it through
a winter under the coldest stars that ever made a night unfriendly. I
freeze now when I think of it. Yes, there's a Wall in the north, and
that road runs to it; and in the south, it does not end at Regnum.
Gleva: Doesn't it? Wonderful road!
Calpurnius: Yes, wonderful road. For on the other side at the very
edge of the sea in Gaul it lives again--yes, that's the word--the
great road lives and runs straight as a ruled line to Rome. For forty
days you drive, inns by the road-side, post horses ready and a cloud
of traffic, merchants on business, governors on leave, pedlars,
musicians and actors for the fairs, students for the universities,
Jews, explorers, soldiers, pack-horses and waggons, gigs and litters.
Oh, if I could make you see it--always on each side the shade of
trees, until on its seven hills springs Rome. Nor does the road end
there.