"Yes, go!" she cried. "I do not doubt. Even Waldrun, who always speaks in your behalf, distrusts you, and she cannot see your arrogant face, the victorious smile on your proud lips, the light in your sparkling eyes! There--see how the feigned expression of good-will vanishes from your features; how resentfully you rear your head! Ay, that is the noble, the swift, strong, handsome man, who believes that the god of wishes must grant every whim, every caprice of his favorite. _You_ mate with a poor girl! _you_ lead red-haired Bissula to your home! Besides, I am called Bissula only by my friends; to strangers my name is Albfledis. Waldrun is right: the blind woman has seen. If you were in earnest you would have gone to the guardian." She drew back and seized her grandmother's arm. "Come! let us return to the house." But Adalo, his tall figure drawn up to its full height, barred their way. Grief and anger were contending for the mastery in the expression of his handsome face. "I was in earnest, the deepest earnest. Freya knows it. Soon Frigga will know also. I did not speak to Suomar, because I did not wish, like most men, to obtain the girl solely by her guardian's command; I desired not only her hand and her person, but her heart, her love. I was sure of Suomar." "Do you hear his arrogance, grandmother?" "It is not arrogance. What can your uncle bring against me? Nothing! And we have always been friendly neighbors. He would not have refused me; but I did not want you as a gift from another, you defiant creature. I wanted the playmate of my childhood to give herself to me. Yes, I confess I hoped that she retained from those childish days a little--just a little affection." "Presumptuous fellow!" "And now the hour and the danger loosed my tongue. The Romans are approaching. Who knows what they may bring us? But you have repulsed me with undeserved suspicion, disdained my loyal aid. True,"--here his brow contracted with mingled grief and anger,--"perhaps the foe will not injure _you_." "What do you mean?" asked Waldrun. Her tone expressed dread of some fresh cause for contention between the two young people. Bissula, without speaking, darted a flashing glance at him. "For years," Adalo went on with suppressed indignation, "you have had friends among these hated enemies--at least one friend. Perhaps he will return hither with the cohorts now threatening us--the wise, eloquent, and wealthy Senator! Of course a German noble, a 'Barbarian,' cannot vie with him in gifts of jewels, rare fruit, and foreign flowers. That I belong to your own people and he to our mortal foes--what care you? You need, nay perchance you desire, neither marsh nor mountain as a defence against your--friend!" "Silence, Adalo! She was then only thirteen. The noble Roman might be her father, nay, almost her grandfather."